Dinner with the Family
by ShadowThorne
Summary: A new name is quickly rising through the ranks, sparking fear and upset in the city's underworld. The new Don hosts a dinner meeting. Another is out for blood. AU
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Kind of a random little story to give myself a break from my larger story. The inspiration behind this was given to me by a scene SexyBleachGuys had envisioned and told me about. After they shared the scene with me, I just couldn't resist! Thanks, doll~**

**Anyway, enjoy~  
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><p>He stood, dagger in his left hand, his right fisted in blood drenched, greasy strands of once pale hair. His shirt had been torn; desperate hands clutching at anything they could reach to try to stop him. As his victim finally choked on his last breath, his body fell limp and finished tearing the fabric away, hand still wrapped in the shredded front of it.<p>

Plains of smooth, tanned skin and rippling muscles glistened with a sheen of sweat in the gritty light filtering through the dingy warehouse window. He unclenched his fist, releasing his hold on the dead man's hair. The body fell to the concrete floor with a dull thud. He wiped the blade of his butterfly style dagger clean on his torn and faded jeans before flipping it closed with a grace and ease that suggested a very intimate knowledge of how to handle such a weapon. Heavy, leather hiking boots thumped across the dirty concrete as the man crossed the open space of the ground floor, the sound echoing softly from the solid walls.

Vivid cyan eyes scanned the shadowed space, sparkling with adrenaline and blood lust and daring another to jump at him from behind one of the random support columns. Their blades couldn't touch him, their guns were useless as fear made their aim waver. He was unstoppable; an animal, a perfect predator, a Hunter, the best at what he did.

He crossed in front of a window, the dust filtering through the air illuminated in the feeble light as it drifted in the stale room. His features became visible for that brief moment; a strong jaw, sharp, angular features and a mess of unruly blue hair; all splattered with a fine, reddened mist.

A sound echoed through the mostly empty space; a thump followed by the terrified murmur of a voice. Full lips parted in a grin full of sin; revealing perfect, white, over sharp teeth. Blood cooled and dried on his bare torso, his jean clad thighs, dripped from his red stained hands. But not from his butterfly knife, oh no. That was clean and gleamed with a malice all of it's own. A malevolence to match it's wielder's.

The man flipped it open again; toying with it, flipping it about and twirling the handle between long fingers. His grin grew, consuming the bottom of his handsome face at the whimpers from the back of the closed off warehouse.

His prey, the person he had been sent after, made a run for it. Laughter echoed through the large space, the deep baritone tinted with madness and blood lust.

The chase was short lived. A large hand found it's way into dark hair. A single, sharp yank brought the man to his knees. The blade whipped around in skilled hands, a soft whoosh accompanying it's motions as it cut through the air.

He yanked on his prey's scalp, pulling a frightened face to look up at him. Brilliant blue shone and gleamed in the dim light, swirling with chaos and an unnatural joy for the hunt.

"n...no...please..." The prey item, a weak man who had wronged his boss, begged in a breathy whisper. The front of his tailored suit pants darkened and the distinctive scent of fear and piss wafted to a sensitive, strait nose.

Pathetic. He sneered and brought his gleaming blade in a swift arc across his target's throat. The man's shitty brown eyes widened in comic fashion, his hands clawing at the wound. A beautiful crimson flowed between his fingers, staining the front of his grey suit and pooling below him.

The Hunter, grin back in place, snagged the man's right hand away from it's place in trying to hold his esophagus closed. With practiced motions, he cut the man's ring finger away and wiped his blade clean across the sleeve of the dying man's jacket. He stepped back, watching as the man gurgled and finally fell to the floor in a heap. A perfect kill. His boss would be happy, maybe even reward him again.

Cerulean eyes looked fondly down at the knife in his hand before he tucked it way in his back pocket. Turning on his heel, a soft whistled tune left his lips as he sauntered toward the exit. Bodies made up a path for him to follow; torn, mutilated, reeking of fear and cowardice as they cooled.

He paused to grab his trench coat from the box he had draped it over when he had first entered. The blood didn't bother him, but it would bother any citizens he happened to pass on his way. He was told to be careful.

Shrugging into the dark colored coat, the man wrapped it tight about himself and shoved his stained hands deep into the pockets before exiting the warehouse. Fresh snow crunched under his boots, his breath plumed out in the cool, crisp air and a smile creased his lips.

His presence drew the attention of all around him, as it always did. Word spread quickly in this world, in this city. Citizens crossed to the other side of the street, eyeing him like he was a dangerous animal. He smiled to himself. He was a dangerous animal.

Just down the street from the warehouse, a black vehicle was parked, the engine on, tinted windows preventing curious onlookers from glimpsing what lay within. As he approached the doors were opened by his driver. The driver bowed slightly, holding the door for him as he slid into the vehicle and closing it behind him before returning to the drivers seat and pulling away from the curb.

"A successful hunt, I presume?" A smooth voice asked. Seated in front of him on the opposite bench seat was his Handler; a man with wild, orange hair that had been allowed to grow until it framed boyish features and a strong jaw.

A grunt and a smirk were his answer.

"Yes, you're right, Grimmjow. I should know not to doubt you by now." The orange haired man said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He rested his elbow on the windowsill of the car and placed his chin in his hand as he watched the city go by outside.

Their partnership was perfect in every way. He did the tracking after receiving word from the boss, then turned Grimmjow loose to chase the target down like a handler releasing a vicious attack dog. Taking the role of Handler, he never failed to find the prey and Grimmjow, his Hunter, never failed to catch and kill it. They had quickly become the most feared men in all of the city's underworld, an unstoppable force, making their boss into a rich and powerful man.

"Do we need to make a stop at the clinic?" The second man asked, glancing at his blue haired partner's blood stained features. He pulled a white handkerchief from the inside of his leather jacket and tossed it to the man.

Grimmjow easily snagged it and wiped it down his face, clearing the drying blood away from his handsome features. Sighing a quiet breath, he took a whiff of the bloodied cloth before setting it on the leather seat beside him and pulling his coat open to reveal his blood smeared, thickly corded upper body.

"Nah. They were pathetic." His deep voice rumbled out, smooth yet grating in the lush confines of their private vehicle. Grimmjow shrugged out of the trench coat, unmindful of the still sticky blood he was smearing across the plush leather seats. Their driver would clean it.

"Very good." The orangette said as he watched muscle ripple beneath smooth, flawless skin as the man across from him pulled out of his coat. "Allow me, we're on our way to see the Don." He said as though it explained everything. And it did. They both had to be presentable before their boss and his associates.

He slid from his seat, kneeling on the floor of the car between them and grabbed the soiled handkerchief from the bench seat next to Grimmjow. Positioning himself between the bluenette's legs, he ran the cloth down the plains of golden skin and washboard abs before him.

Grimmjow spread his legs further, making more room for the man kneeling between them and threw his muscular arms over the back of the seat, leaning back and making himself comfortable as he watched. Slim fingers danced across his chest, tracing the valley between his pectorals and down along his ribs.

"You like the blood as much as I do, don't you, Ichigo?" The blue haired hit man asked, his voice purring out in a seductive baritone.

"You know I do" Ichigo answered in a quiet, entranced voice as he continued wiping the sticky substance from his partner's glorious body.

Grimmjow hooked a finger under the smaller man's chin, pulling his face up and drawing him forward. "It drives you wild, doesn't it? Makes you hard..." He murmured against petal soft lips.

Ichigo whimpered slightly, nodding his head in answer as he stared into deep, swirling blue fire. His palms itched and the front of his tailored dress slacks had grown tight.

"Give in, Ichigo..." Grimmjow purred, nipping at the soft lips that brushed his own. "Come with me on the next hunt instead of sitting in here and waiting...I could make it worth your while"

"Grimm..." Ichigo said in a breathy voice, fingers still dancing along the now clean torso of his partner. "You know I'm much too civilized for that... You're the animal, not me..."

Grimmjow smirked and seized the smaller man in a searing kiss. One of these days, he'd get the orange haired lad to go with him. For now though, he was content to enjoy what the second hand blood he brought back splattered on himself did to the younger man.

Ichigo practically crawled into his lap, wrapping his arms around the bluenette's thick neck and biting down on his full bottom lip. A deep, primal growl rumbled through Grimmjow's broad chest.

The city rolled by around them; tall office buildings of shining glass and steel, busy streets and bustling crowds. The blood smeared handkerchief fell from Ichigo's hand, landing forgotten on the floor of the car. Big hands, tools of murder and yet capable of being so gentle, began working on the buckle of his leather belt. Ichigo linked his fingers through thick, silky blue hair as he licked and nipped down the man's jaw line and neck.

The driver quietly reached behind himself and slid the darkly tinted partition that separated the front of the vehicle from the occupants closed as to not disturb his masters. They had plenty of time until they reached the Don's mansion on the edge of the city.

Ichigo yanked his unbuttoned dress shirt off as he lifted his hips, letting Grimmjow pull the slacks over the curve of his butt. As soon as the shirt was forgotten, he reached down and made quick work of the bigger man's old jeans. Grimmjow lifted himself off the seat for a moment, pulling the pants down far enough to allow for easy access, his already hard member pressing into Ichigo's as he did.

The orange haired man gasped slightly and reached his hand inside black, silk boxers to free Grimmjow's heavy cock. The bigger man hummed at the touches and caresses of the skilled fingers dancing along his shaft. He reached out toward the side of the car and rummaged around in the door compartment until he found what he was looking for.

Tongue plundering Ichigo's mouth, Grimmjow popped the cap of the tube off with his thumb and let it fall to the floor. He squeezed some of the contents onto his fingers before dropping the tube on the seat next to him. He let his index finger trace the seam of the smaller man's cheeks before circling it around his puckered entrance.

"Grimm... Don't tease me." Ichigo said with as much force as he could muster as he continued to slowly stroke the bigger man's cock. He was rewarded with a deep chuckle before that teasing finger plunged into his entrance. He arched his back, inhaling sharply while his hands found their way to Grimmjow's strong shoulders.

Grimmjow pumped his hand back and forth a few times before adding a second finger, delighting in the panting breaths and barely constrained whimpers from the man straddling his lap. "What am I, Ichi?" the bluenette purred into the man's ear as he scissored his fingers.

"Haah... You're...You're an animal..." Ichigo panted out, nails digging into the tanned skin below his fingers.

"That's right... I'm the King, aren't I, Ichi?" Grimmjow asked in a low, husky voice. He added a third finger and Ichigo cried out at the added size.

"Y...Yesss!" Ichigo let his head fall to the man's shoulder, burying his face in his thick neck. He panted against the heated skin; kissing, licking, biting as he pushed back against the fingers thrusting in and out of him.

Grimmjow growled and pulled his fingers away, smirking at the whimper that came from his lover. He grabbed the tube beside him and squeezed a generous amount onto his cock before dropping the bottle to the floor and grasping slim hips.

He lifted Ichigo up, taking a moment to position himself before slamming the smaller man back down. Grimmjow's moan was matched by the orangette. They sat still for a brief moment, giving Ichigo time to adjust to his large size before the smaller man rose in his lap and slowly lowered himself again, pulling another deep moan from Grimmjow.

Soon enough, the bigger man was pounding up into him, corded arms wrapped tight around his waist, big hands splayed across his back. Grimmjow grunted and growled his pleasure, sinking his teeth into the toned chest before him. Ichigo cried out at the sharp pain and reached between them to wrap his thin fingers around his neglected cock. He began pumping in time with Grimmjow's brutal thrusts while he rose and fell in the man's lap.

"Say it." Grimmjow growled, soothing the red teeth marks on Ichigo's chest with his tongue.

Ichigo gasped as a big hand pulled his own away from his cock and started pumping him faster.

"Say it" Grimmjow growled into his ear.

"Youhnnn..." His words melted into a loud moan as the man's cock ruthlessly pounded against his prostate. "You're...the Kiiiing–!" Ichigo cried, his nails digging furrows into the tanned flesh of Grimmjow's muscled chest.

Grimmjow moaned and thrust up with even more force as tight, heated walls pulsed around his member. The orange haired man's cry was followed by his release; the white, sticky ropes of his seed coating Grimmjow's hand and belly.

The bluenette thrust a couple more times, moaning his own pleasure before the constricting heat of Ichigo finally ripped his orgasm from him, draining everything he had to give. He grunted as he released, wrapping his arm tighter around the smaller man as he rode out the waves of their euphoria.

A slight rapping sounded from the other end of the cabin before the tinted partition slid open an inch or two. The quiet, polite voice of their until then mute driver spoke up, doing a valiant job at hiding his fear of interrupting his dangerous employers. "We have almost arrived at the Don's home, sirs."

Grimmjow's deep voice chuckled through the spacious back seat of their car and he glanced out the window to see the imposing, wrought iron gates of the Don's mansion looming before them. Ichigo scrambled from his lap, face tinting a delicious shade of red as he fixed his pants and quickly slid back into his button up shirt.

The bluenette cleaned himself up with the discarded, red stained handkerchief and tucked his softening member back in his boxers before pulling his haggard looking jeans back up to ride low on his hips.

The car was pulled around a circle drive to stop in front of large double doors. The driver exited and walked around, opening the door for his employers and bowing respectfully as he held it.

Ichigo climbed out of the vehicle, stepping aside to allow room for his Hunter to exit. Grimmjow threw his trench coat over his shoulder and gracefully climbed from the car, pulling his zipper up and buttoning his pants as he stood to his full hight. His customary, slightly unhinged, toothy grin was back in place as he confidently strode forward, his satisfied Handler at his side.

They ascended the wide staircase to the front doors. Their boss' henchmen took one look at the duo and nodded, opening the doors for the Don's prized pair of hit men. It wouldn't do to keep the Don waiting, nor would it be good for their health to deny these men entrance.

Ichigo and Grimmjow strode down the elaborate hallways, their footsteps echoing quietly on the black and white tile. The main corridor lead them to another set of double doors, voices and the sounds of dishes and glasses clanking quietly came from the other side. The bluenette was about to push the doors open when a small hand latched onto his upper arm. He spun, teeth bared in a sneer full of threat and looked down on the stick of a man who had dared touch him.

The man pulled his hand away as if it were burned before clearing his throat and pushing a pair of wire frame glasses up his straight nose. Dark eyes sparkled intelligently behind the lenses and straight, black hair framed a narrow face and sharp chin. "You cannot interrupt, especially while dressed as if you just committed murder."

The bluenette chuckled while his Handler smirked. "Ah, Uryu, he did just commit murder" Ichigo said, turning back to the doors and flinging them wide for his Hunter and himself before the Don's glorified secretary could stop them.

The Don always had loved a good show, and tonight's dinner was meant to be just that. They were entertaining the heads of many other crime families from around the area. One in particular had been causing problems, going against the Don's back and not playing very nicely. His men had been taken care of, the head lacky's finger rested in Grimmjow's pocket, right next to his knife. Tonight's dinner was less about the pleasantries and more about making a point.

Sharp, cool cyan eyes followed his Handler's gaze to rest on the dead target's superior; seated at the Don's left hand side and in perfect position to watch the feared team enter the room. All eyes were directed at them as the heavy wooden doors swung on their hinges and the room fell silent.

"Ah! Grimm, Ichi" A watery, distorted voice rang out, shattering the pregnant silence. The two men bowed respectfully to the Don before striding to his side. They were pinned with eerie, gold on black eyes filled with a dangerous mirth. His odd gaze was only accentuated and sharpened by his pale complexion and silvery, shoulder length hair, which had been pulled back into a low tail at the base of his neck. His crisp, white suit was pristine and a deep purple shirt, the top few buttons left open, under the white jacket finished off his startling image. "I presume yer hunt went well?"

"Of course, sir" Ichigo answered politely, a small smile tilting his pink lips as he watched his partner take confident strides around the head of the table to stand behind the slimy bastard that thought he was sneaky. All eyes followed the notorious bluenette's predatory, graceful movements.

Grimmjow's grin consumed his face, barring his perfect teeth. He leaned over the man's shoulder, resting a big hand on the back of the man's chair. Bulging muscle tensed as the Hunter gave it a quick, powerful shove and scooted the man's chair in until his stomach was pressed roughly into the edge of the table. Grimmjow's shirtless upper body radiated an oppressive heat and he growled menacingly under his breath as he leaned over further to drop his prize into the man's glass of red wine. He straightened and stuffed his hands back in his pockets casually, as though the blood stains across his worn jeans hardly mattered in a room full of powerful men in suits.

"Good, good. You two go get cleaned up an ya can join us fer dinner, then" The Don said with a twisted grin to match his prized Hunter's.

The two hit men bowed again before turning and leaving the room.

Shiro smiled as benignly as he could and folded his black nailed hands over the wooden table. He leaned back, eyes flashed in the candle light and waved forward a servant. "I believe our guest could use a new glass of wine" He said in his lilting voice.

The servant bowed and rushed off. The Don turned his haunting gaze back to the man seated at his left.

His eyes were wide as he stared at the severed finger sitting at the bottom of his half full wine glass, the unmistakable golden ring of his family glittering at the very base of it. Small bubbles rose in the tainted liquid, a mirky cloud of a darker red color swirling out from the ragged end of the digit.

The rest of the guests quickly recovered, ignoring the stunned man as the reminder of just who they were associating with sunk in. Shirosaki Ogichi was the youngest head of a crime family in the city, inheriting the family from his deceased father at the tender age of 22. It was rumored he killed the man himself, but it was bad business to speak of such things and so it would stay just that; a rumor. Since he took over barely a year ago, Shiro had rose to the top of the ranks in no time, quickly gaining a brutal and well deserved reputation. His favored hit men were the most renowned in the underworld and he didn't hesitate to send them after anyone who wronged him and many who never got the chance to.

Tonight was a show of power. Tonight, the guests of Shiro's dinner would be deciding weather or not to accept an invitation into the Don's family, or go against him as a rival family. The stakes had been raise and everyone in the room knew Shirosaki meant business and was not to be taken lightly.

The servant arrived with another glass of wine and silently placed it beside the tainted one before disappearing into the background again.

"Please, don't be shy, Ginjō." Shiro spoke up from the head of the table, his watery voice taking on an all too polite edge. "If I wanted ya dead, my Hunter would a taken care of ya while he was deliverin' yer gift." He added confidently, his tone conversational and civil.

With a hand that only shook slightly, Ginjo took up his fresh glass of wine and tilted it to his lips. His eyes darted to the opposite side of the table, a few seats down; briefly settling on a man with calm, brown eyes and a deceivingly kind smile. The motion did not escape the Don's notice.

"What is this 'hunter' of yours, Shirosaki?" The very man Ginjo had looked to asked from his place down the table. "We have heard much of your infamous hit men."

"Yes, there are many rumors circulating around the city, both on the surface and in the underworld." Another guest spoke up. Now that someone had broken the silence, they seemed more willing to speak with the powerful, mysterious new Don.

"Can't be givin' all a my secrets away, now can I?" Shiro laughed, his golden eyes flashing in warning toward the man who had first spoken. Aizen Sosuke was a cold and manipulative man; one Shiro would be sure to keep his eye on.

As if on cue, the mentioned hit men strode through a second set of doors that were located behind the head of the table and Shirosaki. All gazes swung to pin them with calculating looks. The Don simply smiled, interlacing his fingers where his hands rested on the table edge. Leaving his hands in the open and away from any obvious weapons was a symbol of confidence and he knew the importance was being noted by all of his guests. Not to say that he was vulnerable, oh no. Shirosaki was armed, as well as all of his servants, and of course his Hunter and Handler were there.

Ichigo strode to stand behind his right shoulder. His attire was opposite of the Don's. He wore a deep purple, nearly black jacket with long coattails, slacks to match of the same color and a white button up and bow tie. His vibrant orange locks were tied back in a style much like the Don's own hair, a few shorter strands left to frame his face. He looked every bit as powerful and prestigious as the rest of the gathered men in the room.

Grimmjow took his place at the Don's left shoulder, flashing the man to his own left a wide, sharp toothed grin before his features took on a serious look and he appraised the men that gathered around the table with the eye of a predator. He had replaced his torn, blood stained jeans with a pair of dark, acid washed ones. His formerly bare torso was covered with a black, tight fitting, V-neck shirt that still left nothing to the imagination. His silver handled, ever present butterfly knife jutted from his back pocket, the shine of the chrome standing out against his dark attire, making the threat it posed obvious.

Shiro carefully watched the reactions of his guests, powerful and high standing men one and all. He noted many looks of curiosity and surprise, but it was Aizen's all too calm gaze that held his attention. "Have a seat, boys. Yer entitled to a good meal after a long day's hard work" The Don said, a smirk stretching his pale lips as he continued to stare down the table.

Ichigo and Grimmjow took their seats, one on either side of their boss respectively. The man next to Grimmjow, Ginjo, blanched slightly as the bluenette took his seat between him and the Don, but recovered well and nodded his head in friendly, civil greeting.

"These must be the rumored demons themselves, I take it" A soft voice intoned from the place just to the right of the orange haired Handler. Byakuya Kuchiki had already struck up a truce and agreement with the rising crime lord. Some of his men were even on stand by in the mansion incase the need for backup should arise, but even he had yet to meet the two men that had joined their table in person.

"Course! Where are my manners?" Shiro laughed, showing off a blue stained tongue and spread his arms wide before giving a twirling motion with his finger. Servants, all dressed in black suits, white shirts and purple bow ties, filtered into the room, carrying trays of steaming food and fresh wine. Shiro continued his introductions as they set the table. "These are my right hand men! Ichigo Kurosaki" He swept his arm toward the orangette, who bowed his head slightly. "And Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez"

"A pleasure" The raven haired male said in a soft voice, looking from one man to the other.

Shiro raised his wine glass in toast as the servants finished setting the table. All the men around the large dinner table followed his lead and clinked their glasses together as he spoke. "To family and good business" He said with a wide grin.

The dinner passed uneventfully; mostly filled with idle, friendly chat of no consequence. Only a few veiled threats were exchanged, along with a few hints of business ventures. High ranking mafia men were surprisingly civil when gathered together. After a while, the remaining plates were cleared and dessert was served; only the finest of things for the Don's show of power.

"Now then, shall we get ta business finally, gentlemen?" Shirosaki asked as he took a bite of the treat his servants had placed in front of him. At the nods of multiple guests, the young Don continued; going into detail about his proposition to have the various families join into one, larger and stronger family under his command. Of course, the don of each smaller family would still be the leader of their branch and wouldn't loose their standing in the city's underworld. They would simply be at Shirosaki's disposal and he at theirs, should he choose to be. The families would be sharing information and business, eventually branching out and taking over families of other cities. He wanted to create a crime network to do his bidding that would extend far and wide.

The man sitting beside his Hunter carefully cleared his throat, eyeing the finger still swimming in his tainted glass of red wine. "How could this possibly benefit us?" He asked, giving a side long glance to a certain man further down the table.

These fools weren't even bothering to be subtle, Shiro noted. He wondered if they were testing him, feeling him out and seeing how he would react or if they simply thought him stupid. "We would be sharin' resources an territory. It would cut down on the petty fights wit' in our fair city."

"Not that I've decided yet... but if we refuse your invitation...?" Ginjo let his question hang in the air, his nerves fried as the blue haired killer sitting next to him eyed him like a hungry cat about to pounce. He leaned away from the Hunter slightly as he watched Shiro. None of the men in the room were new to death or murder by any means. He had killed his fair share of people but something in the man's crystalline blue gaze chilled him to his very core.

"Guess I'd be forced ta handle ya the old fashioned way." The pale man answered, hardly looking up from his dessert. The smirk stretching his snowy lips did little to dispel the very serious undercurrent of his words. "Are ya suggestin' that you'll be goin' against me?" He asked in all seriousness, finally lifting his haunting gaze to lock eyes with the man.

"Not at all!" The man quickly replied, holding his hands out in a calming manner.

Shirosaki smirked and went back to his dessert. He knew none would announce their allegiance or denial to cooperate while at the dinner party. They would wait and give their answer later on, probably from the safety of their own homes where no one could shoot them for their decision. Unfortunately for them, his methods didn't usually involve guns.

A plate crashed to the floor, the fine china shattering as red wine seeped into the table cloth and dripped onto the tile. The commotion shook Shiro from his musings and he looked up to see his Hunter baring his perfect, white teeth at Ginjo, a powerful hand was wrapped around the man's wrist and wrenching it painfully back. The shinning, silver blade of the Hunter's favored butterfly knife rested at the man's throat. A gun lay on the table before them and Shiro could easily guess as to what the man had been attempting.

A devilish smile stretched his pale lips as he watched the man with calm eyes. He could see fear swirl in their depths, obviously taken by surprise at the bluenette's speed and strength. "Ichigo, if ya please." He said, not bothering to look at the Handler.

"Of course, sir." Ichigo said softly, his voice polite and friendly as though nothing of import was happening. He turned chocolaty brown orbs on his Hunter. "Grimmjow, you can let go now." He said, reaching a hand behind his back, under his jacket. He grabbed the pistol from the waist band of his pants and pulled it around, aiming and firing the weapon as his partner released the man.

The gun shot echoed off the walls and Ginjo's body slumped in it's chair, a small trickle of blood dripping down his forehead. Grimmjow roughly shoved it off and to the floor as the men gathered around the table jumped to their feet.

Calm, calculating brown eyes narrowed as Aizen swung his own weapon to train on the young Don from the far side of the table. He fired, eyes locked with inverted, liquid golden ones. He glimpsed a flash of blue before he turned on his heel and took off for the door. Things had gone wrong, horribly wrong. He had not given Ginjo the go ahead to make his move and he had not intended to interfere. The angered growl of the blue haired beast sent a chill down his spine as he reached the door.

Grimmjow growled as pain blossomed in his shoulder. He landed in a tangle of limbs and broken, splintered wood from the chair, his boss trapped beneath his larger body. Pushing himself to his feet, he bared his teeth and ignored the bullet wound that sent fire through his arm. He looked down just long enough to make sure Shiro was alright, then, seeing Ichigo slide to a halt at the Don's side, he spun and took off after the man who had shot him. The man who had tried to kill his boss. The man that would die.

He shoved a servant out of his way, shouldering the heavy wooden doors open to bang loudly on the walls behind them, echoing in the corridors. With long, graceful strides, the Hunter tore down the hallway, following the looks of shocked staff and shouting.

"Sir, are you ok?" Ichigo asked, slight panic slipping into his tone as he helped pull his boss to his feet.

"Fine, Ichi. But I think Grimm needs ta go on a diet." The Don answered, brushing a few wooden splinters and dust off his white slacks. Damn, was the bluenette solid. "Did he get hit?" He asked as he straightened to his full hight. Byakuya and his men had quickly taken control of the situation, surrounding the other guests and guarding over the powerful Don.

"Not sure, he's pissed off and probably not too sure himself." Ichigo huffed, knowing his partner's stubbornness and incredible pain tolerance. It had gotten them into trouble before.

Another gun shot echoed down the hall toward them, followed by a deep, manic laughter. The voice could have only belonged to the Hunter and Shirosaki and his Handler took off in the direction of the sound.

The laughter died off quickly, replaced by a terrified scream and pleas for mercy. They raced down the hall, flanked by the lower ranking don and a few of Shiro's servants. A deep, animalistic growling reached their ears as they rounded a corner and Ichigo worried for his partner and lover.

Byakuya and the servants, unused to Grimmjow's brutal style, gasped at the sight that awaited them.

Blood splattered the bluenette and the walls in a fine, red mist. The dark liquid pooled below the limp form of a man, presumably one of Aizen's men. Another man struggled weakly against the over powering Hunter. A hand gun lay on the floor, which was kicked to slam into the wall and slide toward the spectators. A slick tongue peeked out to run over a full bottom lip, clearing blood away. Grimmjow's big fist cracked into the man's face again with a dull, wet crunch.

He fisted a hand into short, blood streaked locks and the muscle's in Grimmjow's arms bulged as he effortlessly lifted the man to be at eye level with him. Cold, swirling blue fire met clouded dark eyes and held the man's gaze. The Hunter watched as the fog slowly rolled away and understanding dawned on the hapless, dazed man.

The soft whirring of Grimmjow's favored knife had the man begging again as skilled fingers twirled the parts of the dagger to open and closed playfully.

Warm liquid bubbled from torn, swollen lips as the man attempted to form words around his broken jaw.

Pathetic. Grimmjow flicked his wrist and snapped the blade open. Full lips pull back and white teeth sparkled in a malevolent grin. Never braking eye contact, the vicious hit man plunged his knife into his prey's gut, slicing him open from the waist line all the way up to his throat. The blade dug into the bone of ribs, adding a sickening grinding sound to the chorus of the man's screams.

"Grimmjow."

The smooth voice of his Handler. It seemed play time was over. The blood lust and madness cleared minutely in darkened, cyan orbs and Grimmjow yanked his knife free of his prey's abdominal cavity. He flipped the blade in his hand, grasping it in another fashion before swiftly plunging it through the man's eye socket and into his brain, ceasing the screams instantly as the man's life came to a stuttering, sudden halt. He let go of the body as the dull ache in his shoulder began to register again and turned to face his boss and partner. The blade was wiped clean on the dead man's suit jacket before he pressed his hand over the bullet wound to help stem the flow of blood that stained is torn shirt.

He watched the expressive brown eyes of his Handler follow the thick liquid that seeped between his fingers and an excited shiver raced down his spine. Taking a step toward Ichigo and the Don sent waves of lancing pain through his leg and pelvis, quickly stifling and putting a stop to the stirring of his half hard length. He looked down to see blood blossoming through the material of his dark jeans. So that second bullet had hit him after all, he hadn't felt a thing in the haze of blood lust that had consumed him. He growled slightly as he tried to take another step and felt the lead grind against the bone of his hip joint.

A strong, thin arm wrapped around his waist and the bluenette looked up to see Ichigo by his side and the Don bringing a phone to his ear.

"Szayel. I need ya an a clean up crew at the mansion asap." Shirosaki's lilting yet commanding voice drifted to the Hunter as he locked eyes with his Don. The pale man flipped his phone closed and dropped it back in the breast pocket of his white jacket. "Doc's on his way."

"I didn't get him." He growled out around the sharp pain, refusing to break eye contact with his boss. Aizen had gotten away and he was pissed about it. He slammed his closed fist into the wall in his anger and nearly knocked himself and the Handler supporting him to the black and white, blood smeared tile floor.

"No worries." Shiro said in a calm voice. "Ye'll get yer chance."

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><p><strong>There may or may not be a second part to this, though I left it wide open and really want to make Grimmjow kick some more ass, so chances are good there will be a second chapter to tie everything up if you guys think it's worth continuing~<strong>

**So let me know!  
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	2. Chapter 2

**What have I gotten myself into? After the first chapter was received so well, I couldn't leave it ending the way it had... So I went and came up with an actual plot and back story... and it looks like this will probably be several chapters as long as everyone keeps enjoying it. (No, I'm not forgetting about Monsters and Men. That's still in the works for those of you that read that one)**

**Anyway, on to the chapter! Enjoy~  
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><p>"He always makes such a mess." An effeminate voice huffed as the Don's personal, on call doctor rounded the corridor at a relaxed pace and spotted the mess both he and his crew were supposed to clean. And it was quite the mess; both the bluenette and the men he had killed. "Good thing you never carpeted the hallways, Sir."<p>

"Jus' get 'im back ta workin' condition, Szayel." The Don said, an angry edge to his voice.

"Of course, Sir." The makeshift doctor replied, all too happy about being able to work on such a wonderful specimen as the Hunter. Oh how he almost wished the Don would retire the bluenette so he could do as he pleased with the body.

Grimmjow was slumped back against the wall, one leg curled under him as if he were still ready to spring up should the need arise, the other leg straightened out in front of him. Blood stained the front of his jeans, originating from his hip area. More seeped down the wound in the front of his shoulder, dripping in thin rivulets down his corded arm and falling from his fingertips to the tile of the floor below him. The sneer on his features told the pink haired man that while pained, the Hunter still had plenty of fight in him; a good sign considering he had taken two bullets. He had already known the bluenette was a tough bastard though, that's why he was a Hunter.

"Well, you heard the boss, Grimmjow. On your feet, please." The doctor said, clapping his hands in front of him as he looked down on the blue haired beast. He carefully kept his distance. Traces of blood lust and plenty of anger still swirled in cool cerulean and he had no desire to be in the way if the Hunter snapped again. Once going, only one man had ever been able to calm the enraged, bloodthirsty animal; Ichigo. Szayel had heard plenty of horror stories about what happened to other men who had tried to calm this Hunter; even other Handlers, who were supposed to be trained and experienced at such things.

The bluenette snarled half heartedly, but accepted Ichigo's offered hand. With a grunt and a curse, he slowly climbed back to his feet and did his best to hide his limp as he and his lover followed after the freak of a doctor, leaving their Don to oversee the clean up. As they rounded the corner, they heard his enraged, watery voice shouting at an unfortunate guard.

"You!" Shrio all but screamed at the man standing a few feet down the corridor, staring at the scene and watching as Szayel's clean up crew began removing the mangled bodies. "How the hell did he get passed ya and yer men?"

The lower ranking man, the head of his mansion's patrol and guard unit, cowered at the anger in his boss' distorted voice. He watched the enraged albino stomp toward him, not even bothering to keep up his calm facade now that the rest of the mafia dons weren't in his home and he had nothing to prove. He had sent Byakua off to handle the other family heads while he got his Hunter back under control, then sent the man on his way. It was just he and his henchmen left in the mansion and he could shout and come of as a nut job all he pleased.

Shirosaki stalked toward the man, only stopping once barely an inch separated them. "That man should've never gotten so close in the first place. Now my strongest Hunter's injured! Why is Aizen not dead and coolin' at my feet! Where is he?" The Don screamed in the hapless guard's face.

The man stammered over an apology, practically shaking with fear and fighting the urge to back away from his boss. He promised over and over again to find and kill the other don, even going as far as shouting out desperate orders to his patrolling unit. Men scrambled to and fro, racing to fulfill their duties.

Shiro took a deep, calming breath and finally stepped back a single step. "Ya know what? Don't matter no more." He said calmly, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. He lit up but hardly drew any of the acrid smoke into his lungs, leaving the lit stick to hang and burn between his lips. He watched the man's eyes cloud with confusion before relief started to settle in it's place. "Grimmjow will take care a it, nothin' works better 'en a pissed off Hunter." The Don stated calmly, he half turned to leave before seemingly changing his mind. He reached inside his pristine, white jacket and pulled forth a shining hand gun from it's depths. "Oh, yer 'fficially terminated."

The resonating sound of a single gun shot had the half patched up Hunter shoving the doctor aside, and a deep growl rumbling through his chest. The echo had come from the direction they had left the Don in and Grimmjow was on his feet in a matter of seconds; far quicker than a man with his injuries should have been able to manage. Szayel was knocked away and nearly to the ground as he stumbled back and ran into the wall at the force of the Hunter's push, his tools clattering to the ground.

Grimmjow managed to get to the door, flinging it open before he put to much weight on his injured hip. His leg gave out and a snarled curse rang through the air as it collapsed under him. Blood bloomed anew under the white sweats Szayel had given him to change into as the temporary bandage pulled loose and lead ground against bone. Grimmjow slammed his fist into the ground, gritting his teeth and forcing air into his lungs as the sharp pain over rode the mild pain killers he had been forced to take.

"Fuck, Grimm" Ichigo half yelled as he reached the man's side, stooping to push the stubborn Hunter back into a laying position on the cool floor. "Stay here." He commanded in a demanding tone, no room for arguing. He stood, snagging his own weapon as he sprinted out the door. He was met by the Don half way down the hall as the pale man calmly walked toward him, hands shoved deep and casually into the pockets of his white, lightly blood sprayed slacks.

"Oh, hey Ichi. How's he doin'?" Shiro asked in a friendly tone as he approached.

"Boss?" Grimmjow's voice growled out as his nearly inhuman hearing picked out the Don's voice. Hand reaching up to grasp the doctor's shoulder, who was kneeling and trying to keep him still, he pushed himself upright before disregarding the pink haired man again. Using the wall for support, the bluenette hobbled into the hall way, a wince crossing his features with each step but his determination allowed him to shove the pain away as his mind and body automatically started shifting into a more primal mode, one that forced adrenaline through his system and made ignoring pain easy.

"Dammit. Why are you on your feet?" Ichigo asked, spinning around to glare at him. The bluenette sneered but it didn't hold the heat and deranged edge that had enemies cowering at his feet.

"Grimmjow, why don'cha let the doc finish patchin' ya up before ya come runnin', yeah?" The Don said; more of a command then a question but he had a wide smirk on his features as he approached. He could always count on his favored team of killers to come running, no matter what condition they were in.

The Hunter growled out a "Yes, Sir." then hobbled back into the in-mansion hospital room he had been brought to. He grabbed the front of Szayel's shirt, pulling him close to bare over sharp teeth at the thin man before shoving him back toward his tools. He had no real reason to be angry and hostile toward the man, but then, he really didn't give a shit, nor did he need a reason.

Ten minutes later saw the Hunter gritting his teeth and growling as the doctor pulled the bullets from his hip and shoulder. He then cleaned the wounds out; flushing them with an antiseptic before smearing them in a light antibiotic. Thin fingers flashed across tanned skin as the doctor quickly stitched up the wounds and dressed them with bandages.

The Don had left, giving the Handler his instructions before he pulled his phone from his pocket and made a few calls. A bounty was instantly placed on Aizen's head; word of his betrayal at a civil meeting would spread quickly. Shiro was young and wild with a ruthless reputation that he refused to let be tamed. Good politics made the head of a mafia family just as successful as blood and murder and he had no problem playing with both approaches. He would move his pieces right, let word of Aizen's bad business habits spread, then eliminate him. Of course his best Hunter was out of commission for a few days. No matter, he had others.

All the while, Ichigo leaned in the door way with his arms crossed over his chest; keeping an eye on the temperament of his partner while offering his silent support to his lover. He knew Grimmjow didn't really need the support, he had been injured before and would be again, but it was there anyway. He did however, need to be reminded that he wasn't allowed to kill Szayel; every time the doctor pressed a bit too hard or took too long, the bluenette was snarling like an animal and making threats. Ichigo had almost needed to intervene once already.

"Alright, then." Szayel huffed, glad to be done. His earlier euphoria at getting to work on the Hunter dissipated as he worked under the threatening glare of both he and the Handler, not to mention the angry rumbling in the muscled chest before him. He tore off one last strip of medical tape and gently pressed it across the bandaged wound in the bluenette's hip. "Stay off your feet for a few days, let this heal up before you do anything strenuous." He punctuated his words with a quick, light poke to the wound, knowing that it would send fire down the man's leg again. He turned so he could speak to both Hunter and Handler. "Make sure these stay clean and dry and he should be able to return to full duty within a few days, judging by how quickly his previous injuries have healed. However, if you have need of my services again, you know where to find me."

"Don Shiro has asked me to pass his gratitude along to you, he also says that you can have whatever you like of the bodies and mess your crew is cleaning up." Ichigo told the doctor, a barely concealed look of disgust crossing his features. "Your pay will be delivered in the usual way"

A smile stretched Szayel's thin lips. "Wonderful, good day, Ichigo" He said as he slipped passed the orangette and hurried down the hall to see what was still usable. He always had experiments to play with and always needed another test subject, it didn't necessarily need to be a living one to work.

Ichigo watched the pink haired doctor disappear down the hall, an all too eager spring in his step. He shook his head before turning back to the injured Hunter laying on the gurney.

Grimmjow grunted and forced himself to his feet, ignoring what the doctor had told him. He had a man to kill and he'd be damned if the Don sent someone else to do it now that he had failed to catch him once.

"What the hell are you doing?" The Handler demanded, rushing to the bluenette's side.

"What's it look like? Can't sit here all damn night." Grimmjow grumbled, reaching out to place a big hand on his lover's shoulder for support as he eased weight onto his injured leg.

Beside him, Ichigo huffed an irritated sigh but knew better than to try persuading him to sit still. Instead, he settled for wrapping an arm around the bigger man's waist and helping him hobble out of the room. The orangette held no doubt that he would be up and demanding to hunt down the coward that had shot at Shirosaki within the next couple days. But that was what he loved about Grimmjow; nothing could keep him down. The man was truly an animal at times; he could be on his death bed and if the fight was still going he'd be right back on his feet and spilling blood like it could replace the blood that he lost.

Ichigo shook his head slightly at his own thoughts, a small smile ghosting across his lips, and reached his free hand out to push the door to their private suite open. It only made sense that the Don would keep his hit men close by. The Don's mansion it's self was like a fortress and each Hunter/Handler team had their own in-mansion suite for convenience. The main door in from the hallway led to a small kitchen like area and a small sitting area, it also housed a washer and dryer even though the higher up teams had servants for such tasks. Three doors faced the main entrance from the back wall; two bed rooms and a bathroom.

Ignoring the Hunter's complaints; more just a low, rumbling growl than actual complaining, Ichigo led the man to the door on the far left. Grimmjow would lay down and rest for the what remained of the night even if he had to sit there to make sure the stubborn man did as he was told the whole time.

He walked Grimmjow to the large bed that occupied the far wall and helped him lower himself without putting to much weight on either his injured hip or his injured shoulder; not exactly an easy task. After making sure the man was as comfortable as possible, Ichigo turned to leave, thinking he would make them something to eat before heading off to his own bed and letting the Hunter rest.

He made it half way across the room before Grimmjow's gravely baritone accosted him. "Where do you think you're going? If I'm stuck in bed then your stuck with me." He held a surprisingly commanding tone for an injured man; especially one talking to his Handler.

Ichigo smirked. That was Grimmjow's softer side, something that not many got to see and even the few that did hardly recognized it for what it was. The bluenette may have been a beast, but he still had a human side. He had to in order to function in everyday society, which he did surprisingly well for a mass murderer. When he had to, at least. And as long as no one pissed him off. The bluenette could actually be relatively civil, tame even, when Ichigo or the Don were around to keep his temper in check.

The Handler turned back around and climbed in bed beside the bigger man, enjoying his strength and warmth. Grimmjow nuzzled the side of his neck and his hair for a moment while he got comfortable, then with a contented sigh, the bluenette slowly began to relax, pulling his lover closer against his broad chest.

Ichigo closed his eyes and listened to the man's breathing as it slowly evened out. It was amazing how cuddly and relaxed the Hunter could be around him. But then, that's why Ichigo had been selected as his Handler and consequently how they became lovers.

Normally, a Hunter was paired off with a Handler who matched him or her in size and physical strength. Ichigo was no where nearly as solidly built or as tall as the bluenette. Grimmjow's original handler had been killed by the Hunter. His team and Ichigo and his Hunter at the time had been on guard duty while the Don engaged in a business transaction. Both the Don and the man he was dealing with had agreed to go unarmed as they met in the middle of a large, abandoned warehouse.

Somehow, Grimmjow had picked up on not only the other man's concealed weapon, but hidden accomplices as well. He had taken action, ignoring what his Handler had commanded him to do and killed the supposedly unarmed man the Don was dealing with. The kill had been so fast that his accomplices hadn't had time to react. By the time they had figured out what was happening, Ichigo had turned his own Hunter loose and had his gun out, rushing to the Don's side to guard him while the others did their jobs.

Grimmjow's Handler had mistakenly tried to step in and put a halt to the bluenette's fight before his target was down. It had been Ichigo who was able to pull the enraged Hunter of his Handler and calm him enough for the bloodlust and madness to clear away.

After watching the display, Shirosaki had wasted no time in finding a new Handler for Ichigo's partner and pairing he and Grimmjow up.

Behind him, the sleeping Hunter snuggled closer and Ichigo could feel his muscled body tense and relax again as he dreamed. As inhuman as the Hunters, especially Grimmjow, seemed at times, they weren't the animals most thought they were. They were just really good at letting go of that humanity when the need arose. They were just men who embraced their instinctual side and let loose.

The orangette smiled slightly and began drifting off to thoughts of his Hunter and lover's bare body splattered with thick, dark blood that dripped down his built torso and matted his wild, blue hair. And the unquenchable fire that lit those stunning, cyan eyes... Ichigo shivered as his breathing evened out to match that of the man spooned behind him.

Hours later, Grimmjow woke up to a polite knock coming from the front door to his and Ichi's suite. He yawned, blinking a few times until his sensitive eyes could adjust to the bright light streaming in through the reinforced, bullet proof glass of his window. He turned his head to face toward the door of his room as the knocking persisted, getting a face full of unbound, orange hair. He reached his arm over his body to tangle his fingers carefully through it, groaning at the stiffness in his shoulder and running the entire length of his leg. Oh so carefully, he began sitting up, trying not to disturb his still sleeping lover. He had to get up and get moving; work some of the stiffness out of his limbs. He couldn't just sit there all day while the Don had probably sent another team out after his kill.

His sharp hearing picked up the click of locks from the front door as whoever was knocking decided to let themselves in. That meant it could only have been a handful of people; all the more reason for him to get up and start moving around.

He finally managed to maneuver himself to the edge of the bed, throwing his feet over to touch the plush, navy blue rug when a warm hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from standing up.

Ichigo slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand before looking at the bluenette. "You stay in bed, I'll answer it." He mumbled. "There is no way being up is going to help that wound in your hip heal any faster." He added, as if being able to read Grimmjow's thoughts.

The Hunter huffed but didn't move to stand up from his place on the edge of the bed as Ichigo got up, threw a pair of over size pants that must have been Grimmjow's on, and left the bedroom.

He entered the sitting area just as the Don was quietly closing the door behind himself. "Good morning, Sir." Ichigo said, walking across the space to enter the kitchenette. He pulled a canister of coffee down from a cupboard and turned the pot on.

"Mornin', Ichi. Didn' mean ta wake ya. The maid told me no one answered the door when she came by earlier ta retrieve Grimm's bloodied clothin'." The Don said, his lilting voice soft to match Ichigo's quiet tone. He figured his prized Hunter must have still been resting.

"Oh, you didn't wake me, Sir." Ichigo said as he poured three cups off coffee. "Grimmjow did. Trying to get out of bed on his own to answer the door."

"Ah, I see." Shirosaki accepted the cup offered to him and added enough milk to make it nearly white before taking a sip. "He's doin' well, then?"

Ichigo shrugged and set aside a cup of black coffee while he added some sugar to his own. "He's doing well enough, as stubborn as usual. I believe he's mad about you sending another team after Aizen."

Shiro snorted a laugh. Leave it to Grimmjow to get angry over someone else getting the opportunity to kill the man that had injured him. "Speak a the devil"

The door to the bedroom swung open slowly, revealing a slightly hunched over Grimmjow; one hand bracing him against the wall as the other was pinned to his side, keeping him from jarring his shoulder to much. He hadn't bothered with a pair of pants once he heard the Don's voice and gingerly stepped through the door way wearing only his boxers, the taped up bandage over the bullet wound in his hip peeking out the top; a harsh, sterile white against his golden skin.

Ichigo heaved an exasperated sigh and set his coffee cup down before making his way across the space to help the Hunter to the small kitchen table. Shiro snickered as he watched the two, unable to keep the wide grin from his face even if he had wanted to. Ichigo pulled the wooden chair out for the bluenette before reaching over and grabbing the extra mug off the counter. He placed it in front of the Hunter and Grimmjow hummed thankfully before lifting the black liquid heaven to his lips.

After taking his first sip, Grimmjow finally addressed the Don, looking up to meet the pale man's haunting eyes. "Good morning, boss." He hated that he was only one sitting, he hated having to look up while the others looked down at him. So he stood up, ignoring the frown that creased his Handler's brows, and edged around the table so that he could lean back against it and take most of the weight off his injured leg while still being level with the other two men. The motion seemed to placate the Handler, as he nodded slightly and went back to his coffee.

"Mornin', Grimmjow. Ya slept in" The Don said, the amusement evident in his watery voice.

Blue brows furrowed as Grimmjow turned his head to look at the clock hanging on the wall. Eight A.M. He sneered when he realized the Don was right.

Shiro laughed at the look that crossed the bluenette's face. "Tha's ok. Ya can take a day er two off from trainin', I should think"

Grimmjow snorted, curling his lip slightly. He hated missing his training exercises and warm ups. "You send another team after that bastard already?" The Hunter asked, unable to keep the scathing tone from his voice.

Shiro just chuckled at his attitude. "Yep, I did. Can' just let 'im run around."

The bluenette grunted but nodded his understanding. "Which team? You hear anything from them yet?"

"The third, second is already on a job. An' no, it's a little early to hear from 'em. If they managed to catch 'im this fast then he probably wasn' worth huntin' down."

The Don had a point. It would have been a waste of time to even consider sending Grimmjow and Ichigo in if the third ranked team had already managed to catch Aizen.

"Well, ya two enjoy yer time off" Shiro threw the two of them a lewd wink and grin. A smirk to match spread across the bluenette's face while Ichigo fought back a deep red that crept up his neck. The Don turned to leave the two alone, pausing in the door way. "Oh, still need yer report, Ichi. Anytime taday is fine, take yer time."

"Of course, Sir, thank you" Ichigo said, watching as the Don pulled his buzzing phone from the pocket of his nearly white jeans.

"They're back already?" Shirosaki paused in the opened door way, his ashen brows furrowing as he listened to his frantic assistant shout over the phone. "Nah, send 'em up ta my office...wait, slow down..."

Ichigo and Grimmjow edged toward the Don, watching as his face contorted in confusion then shock.

"Alright. I'll be down in a minute." The Don snapped his phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket, an angered sneer on his features. He turned back to his hit men. "Problem. Catch up as soon as ya can." With his orders given, Shiro turned on his heel and left, headed toward his front gates.

Ichigo spun around, practically sprinting toward Grimmjow's room. He grabbed a pair of loose fitting jeans and one the man's tight, black shirts. Leaving the room, he tossed them to the Hunter who was still standing by the kitchen table before heading to his own, rarely used room to grab clothes for himself; his usual slacks and button up shirt.

Once the two were dressed, they left their suite, going as fast as Grimmjow's injuries would allow. Surprisingly, the man was able to keep up a decent pace, though he limped slightly. Ichigo could see a primal anger swirling just below the surface of calm, cyan and knew that Grimmjow had already half way shifted toward his Hunter mode and was preparing for whatever the Don had to throw him at.

They arrived at the entrance of the mansion just as Shiro was stomping back into the building, pulling his phone out as he did so. He held it to his ear and started talking so quickly Ichigo could hardly believe it had even rang on the other end yet.

"Szayel. Clean up crew. Front gates." Shiro bit out, then calmly closed his phone and threw it as hard as he could down the hall. The devise hit the smooth tile, breaking into several pieces that scattered and slid across floor. He faced his number one team, his face pinched into an outraged expression. "Third team's back. In pieces. How quick can ya get out in the field?"

"Now"

"Tomorrow."

The Hunter and Handler glared at each other for a moment; a silent battle of wills. Grimmjow wanted to go hunt the bastard down now and Ichigo knew he needed more time to heal up properly. Neither were willing to back down, but Shiro made the decision for them.

"Ya leave later tanight. Rest up. I'll have Szayel bring ya some pain killers er somethin."

"Yes, Sir." They both answered at the same time and watched the Don pull out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and lit up, drawing in a deep lungful before baring his teeth and exhaling. He yanked the stick out of his mouth and snapped it two before it followed his phone and he stomped away.

The two men watched the uncharacteristically upset Don storm away before they turned about. All that was left for them to do was wait for the doctor to get there. They didn't need to make any preparations aside from whatever Szayel said or did. The teams were constantly at the ready; weapons were always loaded, checked, well oiled and kept in perfect working condition. Handler's guns were checked numerous times a day and taken apart to be throughly cleaned once a day. Anyone who used blades, like Grimmjow, cleaned and sharpened their weapons of choice constantly and once a knife started to loose it's edge, it was discarded and another selected. Grimmjow himself had a small stock pile of various types of knives and daggers kept in a case in his room; though his favorite at the moment had to be the butterfly dagger. It was sturdy and folded to a relatively small and easily concealable size, but once opened, it was a serious blade with a wicked, curved tip meant for easy slicing. Plus, it was fun to play with and terrified his enemies.

The bluenette couldn't keep the sadistic grin off his face as he polished the chrome handle of his favored toy. Sitting across from him at the small table, Ichigo busied himself with taking apart his M1911A1, a well rounded and trusty handgun; cleaning and oiling the parts before reassembling it.

Before they knew it, a knock sounded on the door before it was pushed open to reveal Szayel. The doctor checked over the Hunter's bullet wounds; peeling the bandages away and checking the stitching. He seemed pleased with how well they looked after only a day. Pulling a large syringe from his case of medical supplies, the pink haired man injected a numbing agent directly into the wounds; letting it drip over the stitches before injecting the needle near the wounds.

Grimmjow sneered, not particularly enjoying the strange sensation but as the serum began to take affect he found that he had full mobility back with no pain. Szayel assured him that it was only temporary; the original dose would have lasted six to eight hours, however he had tampered with the chemical makeup and the numbing effect should ware off after twenty-four hours, giving the Hunter a full day before he began to feel his wounds again.

"That does not mean you can go get shot again." Szayel scoffed after explaining to the two men sitting before him. "This may help draw out your natural ability to ignore wounds, but you will most certainly still feel it, if not at the time, then later."

"No need to worry about it, doc." Grimmjow said, pulling his jeans back up over the newly bandaged wound and buttoning them. His good mood was reflected in the wide, slightly crazed grin that took over the lower half of his features; white teeth bared in glee. Azure eyes danced and sparkled with barely contained excitement as the Hunter pocketed his blades, sticking the butterfly knife in his back pocket like usual while the others were better concealed and out of sight.

Ichigo tucked his gun in the back of his pants and pulled his suit jacket on. Together they left; mind sets already switched from lovers to partners and ready to spill blood. Walking through the corridors with a brisk pace, the other workers and staff of the mansion gave them a wide berth; able to see and practically smell the dangerous aura surrounding the deadly duo.

The Don had told them were Aizen's mansion was located, but they could hardly just go barging in. Instead, the stalked about the city's underworld. Ichigo did his thing, and after only an hour of making calls and bribing and threatening all the right people, he had word of a business transaction Aizen was scheduled to appear at. He couldn't be positive that the don himself would be there, but he was certain it was Aizen's family and if nothing else, the could hit some of his higher ups. That in it's self would go a long way in crippling the man and his operation and so the team agreed to take a peek around, Grimmjow all too eager to sink his teeth into something.

The orange haired hit man turned in his seat and addressed their driver through the opened partition. He gave the silent man directions and told him to park the usual distance away before turning back to Grimmjow, who sat across from him, looking relaxed and at ease, as if they were simply out on a Sunday drive.

"You have your collar on, right?" He asked the bluenette. A collar was a sort of calling devise worn around one's wrist. Should a Hunter run into trouble and need back up from his or her Handler, or need to get in touch with them quickly, they had a pager like system set up. All the Hunter had to do was push a button and a one way speaker was activated, allowing the Handler to hear what was going on and decide what actions to take. If the Handler needed to communicate back, he could push the button on his own collar and it would open up a two way system like a phone call.

Grimmjow lifted his hand and shook it, showing off the teal and silver colored bracelet.

Ichigo nodded and double checked his matching one, hidden under the sleeve of his jacket. "And a tag?" He asked. The tag was used as a calling card, a signature of sortss. Each family had their own that signaled they were responsible. They were mostly used when one don had another's men killed and wanted to send a message. Don Shiro's tag was quite literally a blank, silver dog tag. If they got to the location and found that Aizen wasn't there, they planed to drop a tag and let the man know that he was being watched.

Grimmjow dug around in his pocket a moment and pulled forth six of the objects, each one had a teal loop that would normally be fixed to a dog's collar to hold the tag in place. However the colored metal loop was only further proof of the threat. Only Shiro's best team had a different color attached to it.

"How long we been partners, Ichi?" The Hunter's deep voice asked, amusement in the relaxed question.

Ichigo let a small smile ghost his features. "You're right, I know you never overlook these things." And it was true. Grimmjow was damned good at what he did.

The bluenette's smirk grew to feral proportions as the car rolled to a smooth stop, just a few blocks down from the appointed place. The engine was cut and everyone sat still and silent. The driver didn't get out to open the door this time and the Hunter took his time in assessing his surroundings while he slowly climbed from the vehicle. He stood beside the opened door for a moment, letting his senses test the sights and sounds around him and tuning into the feel of things before he nodded to himself and slowly closed the door until it shut with a quiet click. He left his Handler behind, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his customary trench coat and pulling it closed about his broad figure as he walked down the snow lined sidewalk toward his destination. All the while, his insane grin stretched his lips and his mouth salivated at the thoughts of the blood that he would spill and the havoc he would wreak.

He found the location and entrance easily enough. A single man stood guard at a side entrance, the front was covered by thrice that. Sure, confident strides brought the Hunter directly to the man guarding the side entrance. The man was pacing back and forth in an attempt to stay warm. He turned just as Grimmjow came to a halt before him. Confusion played across his features before his eyes widened as they caught sight of gleaming metal flashing in the dimly lit ally way. He brought his gun up leveling it toward the bluenette but his arm stopped short, a powerful hand wrapped around his wrist.

Grimmjow twisted his prey's arm, the gun falling from a numbed hand as he forced the shoulder out of joint. The man's cry of pain was cut short before it even left his throat and was replaced by a quiet gurgling as the man's eyes rolled up. Yanking on the handle of his blade, the Hunter pulled his dagger free of the man's chest, careful not to let it catch on the dead man's ribs as he fell backward to the ground. The bluenette crouched and wiped his blade of on the dead man's coat before closing the blade and casually walking out of the ally.

Hand's back in the pockets of his coat, Grimmjow turned the corner and whistled a soft tune as he approached the three men crowded around the main entrance.

They looked up as he approached, their conversation dying off as he stopped in front of them, still facing down the street and not looking at the three of them. "Can we help you?" One of the men asked in a gruff voice. It was obvious he had no intention of doing any such thing.

The whistled tune fell away and slow smirk crossed the Hunter's face. Grimmjow shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to the side walk. He turned to them with the speed and grace of a predatory cat, blade flashing in skilled hands.

One guard fell before either of the three knew what was happening. The deep slash across his throat insure that he wouldn't cause Grimmjow any problems. The Hunter punched out with his left fist. The air whooshed from the guards lungs as the big fist collided with his chest and sent him sprawling backward. The Hunter winced as the third man shouted. No need to draw unnecessary attention. Grimmjow dove at the man, using his body weight to knock the man to the ground with a dull thump.

The Hunter bared his gleaming teeth at the man below him, the action having the same effect as if he were a vicious animal and not a man. Below him, the guard grunted before his eyes widened as he realized the shot to his abdomen hadn't just been a fist. Pain bloomed at the same time as the red seeped from the deep wound and the Hunter twisted the handle of his knife, carving a deep wound through the soft flesh of the man's belly. Just as the guard finally registered what was happening and opened his mouth to scream in agony, the Hunter yanked the knife from his gut and plunged it into the side of his neck, severing his Carotid artery and ceasing his struggles.

Wasting no time in getting off his kill, the Hunter rushed over to the man he had punched. His silence let him take the man by surprise and he ended this one quick; a hard shot to the back of the neck with the handle of his dagger. The sickening crunch of fragile bone breaking reached the predator's keen ears and Grimmjow smirked.

Blood already splattered his corded forearms, dripping from red stained hands and nails. Tonight was going to be a good night.

He wiped the blade of his dagger across one of the dead men's coats before flipping it closed again. The blood from his hands marred the shiny chrome handle but he didn't really mind. He would just clean it when he went back to the Don's mansion and the deep crimson was such a wonderful color anyway.

He drug the bodies around the side of the building, kicking snow over the red streaks he had made as he walked back toward the entrance to grab his trench coat. The cold air didn't register to his predatory mind and he didn't pay attention to the plumes of warm air coming with each breath but he knew that he would need the coat later to hide the blood he would surly be covered in after he was finished.

He folded the thick leather coat over his arm and made his way back to the side entrance, where he deposited it before cracking the door just enough to peer through it.

It didn't appear that the man's shout a few minutes earlier had alerted anyone to his presence. His keen eyesight picked out a few men ambling about, looking bored as they made the effort to ware a trail through the dirty cement floor with their pacing. Another man stood more toward the center of the room, watching whatever was happening beyond the bluenette's line of sight.

The Hunter watched the patterns of the pacing guards for a few more moments. Timing everything just right, he opened the door a tad further and edged into the dimly lit space and quickly ducked behind a large, long desk like work surface. Deciding to throw caution to the wind like normal, the Hunter took a deep breath and pounced from his cover as a guard neared.

Without consciously taking action, the dagger was already flipped open and grasped in his hand as he landed upon the man. He could feel the man's heart slamming below his palm through his ribcage and did a quick, automatic count before plunging the dagger between the third and fourth ribs. Metal punched through muscle, grazing the top of the fourth rib before it sliced through the man's heart.

The Hunter did a head long roll as the man's body fell still and the heart slowed to a stop. Blood sprayed out in a crimson spray as he came to a stop in a crouch before the next man and slashed out. A horizontal slash to the second man's abdomen cut deep and severed muscle. The guard fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach as he screamed.

Grimmjow reached down, through the sliced flesh as he sprang back to his feet, dragging a length of the man's small intestine with him. He released the organ and ducked behind a support column as gun fire sprayed the area in lead. A deep, crazed and overjoyed laughter followed the echos and the man the Hunter had seen in the middle of the room began shouting orders.

The bluenette, teeth still bared in an insane grin, looked about for his next move. A large fuse box clinging to the wall not far from his location caught his eye and cool cyan sparkled in anticipation and adrenaline. He pulled a smaller, weighted dagger from a holster strapped around his thigh and the moment the gun fire paused, he leapt from his cover. The smaller dagger sailed through the air, glinting in the dim light as it struck it's target in the gut.

Thrown by a strong, accurate arm, the blade sank deep and the man grunted as he folded around the blade. Grimmjow didn't wait to see if the guard would stand back up, he took off toward the fuse box and slammed the thin metal door in with his elbow. Reaching through the crushed door, he gripped a handful of wires and gave a savage pull, snapping them and plunging the building in darkness.

The fearful curses that rang through the space were drowned out by a maniacal laughter and the Hunter darted off into the darkness. His eyes quickly adjusted and he sprinted toward the nearest man, quiet as a cat as he crossed the bare floor.

He reached the terrified guard, wrapping his arm around the man's throat from behind and quickly cutting off his air supply. The guard dropped his gun, hands reaching up to claw at him. Grimmjow flipped the blade over in his other hand, stabbing it into the base of the man's spine and grinding it across the bone. He didn't have the leverage to allow him to cut or break the bone, but he severed the nerves surrounding the man's spine and his numbed and useless legs buckled under him.

Grimmjow dropped him to the ground and kicked the gun away as he took off toward the next target. He grabbed the front of the man's jacket and drew his arm back, preparing for a quick, solid stab into the man's gut.

A surprised and pained gasp fell from full lips as the lights were suddenly turned back on, brighter than they had been before. Acting on instinct, the Hunter jerked the man in his grasp around and pulled him close. He wrapped one arm around his prey's throat and held the knife to the side of his face. The guard, legs shaking slightly, dropped his gun and held his hands up in surrender but the Hunter had other thoughts.

As his eyes adjusted to the new lighting, a clapping shattered the sudden silence. Grimmjow pulled tighter on the man's throat and let a deep, rumbling growl leave his throat.

"I must admit, I'm quite impressed." A silky, calm voice spoke through the room.

The bluenette snarled as Aizen showed himself, entering the large space from somewhere in the back. The blade he held to the guards cheek pressed a bit harder as anger consumed him, blood seeping to the surface in a lazy droplet before trailing down the man's face like a red tear. The man gave an almost inaudible whimper and Grimmjow had to remind himself not to kill his pathetic hostage. He might need the human shield.

The remaining guards, five in total, seemed to regrow their balls as their don appeared and they quickly moved to start surrounding the cornered predator. Aizen raised his hand and the men paused, letting the dangerous bluenette have plenty of space.

"If I remember correctly, you are called a 'Hunter', yes?" Aizen asked conversationally. He snapped his fingers, hard, brown eyes never leaving Grimmjow's form. One of his men quickly dragged a chair over and the don took a seat and made himself comfortable. "Not going to answer? Well now, that's a bit rude. Though, what can one expect from an animal."

Grimmjow sneered at him but knew he was in trouble. He pressed the call button on his collar, easily concealing the motion as a simple shift in his grasp upon his hostage. He could almost picture the frown that was surely marring his Handler's features at the sudden use of the devise but he knew the orangette wouldn't come rushing into the building. He would simply sit quietly and wait until he had assessed the situation before deciding weather he needed to rush in or bring backup.

"I've heard rumor that Shirosaki gives his hit men drugs that turn humans into animals like you. Is that true? Quite remarkable, he must have a fine scientist under his employ."

The Hunter snarled at the very thought of being injected by anything in order to reach his primal state. He didn't need drugs to be the perfect predator.

"Hmmm, I'll take that as a no, then. Intriguing. So you're naturally like this?" Aizen continued as if he were holding a whole conversation with the angered bluenette. "You eliminated...eight...well, the one in your grasp will make nine. You eliminated nine of my men within minutes. That's incredible."

The man being held hostage began shaking visibly as his boss discarded him so easily. Grimmjow bared his teeth at Aizen and tightened his hold until the man was gasping for air and had stilled, before relaxing again and letting him draw breath. Anger and outrage coursed through his veins and he calculated his chances of getting the bastard seated in front of him before being gunned down. Aizen wasn't holding weapon of his own, but the bluenette wasn't stupid enough to think the man would be so near him unarmed.

"What do you say...Grimmjow, was it? Help me train hunters of my own, and I'll spare your life." Aizen said, his voice calm, friendly even. A polite, easy smile rested on his lips but malice and threat swirled through his calm, calculating gaze.

Grimmjow's muscled chest rumbled against the man he held in front of him as his deep laughter answered the man's ridiculous question.

"Pity." Aizen said. His tone implied that he was hardly surprised. He reached behind his back to pull forth his handgun. Pulling the hammer back, the brunet shook his head sadly as he looked back at the Hunter before him. A truly wonderful predator and creation, he almost hated ending the bluenette. He leveled the gun toward the Hunter and his man, then pulled the trigger.

Grimmjow jerked in surprise as the gun went off and the bullet ripped through his hostages throat and lodged into his already wounded shoulder. He growled and grit his teeth, feeling the warmth of his own blood but he was still in a very predatory mind set and hardly felt the sting of the bullet. He let the body fall the ground and instantly went into a defensive crouch as he warily eyed Aizen, his blade gleaming at his side.

The don's next words, threat and amusement simmering just beneath the surface, had his blood running cold.

"Tell me, where is that magnificent Handler of yours?"

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><p><strong>What? You thought Aizen, the bad ass that he is, would just let someone kill him? Pfft~<strong>

**So, what do you guys think? Still liking the idea?  
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	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hope everyone's Christmas and whatnot was enjoyable~  
>I have not and will not be writing anything for the holidays, so I hope this story is enough of a treat for you guys ^^; <strong>

**On another note; Thanks for all the comments and reviews everyone! I read and love all of them and reply to the ones I can. There's been a few from anonymous people or others that weren't logged in, so I couldn't directly reply, but I still greatly appreciate every one of my readers!  
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**Anyway, on to the story~ Enjoy!  
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><p>He glanced at his watch for what must have been the third or fourth time. Five minutes and 43 seconds. He guessed he had about another five before things started to heat up inside. Pressing the button on the door handle to the luxurious car, the Handler rolled the window down a fraction; just enough to allow for sounds to make it into the vehicle but not let the warmth escape into the cold air of the darkening evening.<p>

Thin, seemingly delicate fingers danced across the keyboard of his laptop as Ichigo busied himself with typing up that report the Don wanted. He doubted that Shiro really cared if he got it by the end of the day anymore, or if he got it at all for that matter, but the orangette had nothing better to do while Grimmjow did his thing. Sitting and doing nothing while the man was in the field drove him up a wall and was hard on his already debatable sanity.

He looked at his watch again as the soft echo of the first gun shot carried to him through the cracked window. Ten minutes and 13 seconds. Right on time like always. Grimmjow followed an unconscious pattern whenever he was out killing multiple targets. The Hunter didn't realize it, but Ichigo had noticed long ago. The Hunter always took roughly the same length of time to appraise a location or to contemplate a situation before rushing headlong into battle; like his patience couldn't possibly last longer than those few minutes.

The Handler strained to hear the barely audible screams that followed shortly after the gun fire. He always listened for his Hunter's deep, growling shout even though he had never been unfortunate enough to hear it and he knew this mission would be no different. Even had the man been shot or injured; near death even, Ichigo doubted he would ever cry out. He was too strong for that.

The light seeping through boarded windows went dark a few blocks down and he thought he caught a deep, rumbling laughter between bursts of gunfire. The corners of Ichigo's lips lifted up. Grimmjow really was having fun this time, he hated to see what was left for whoever happened upon the bodies with the next morning.

Shaking his head slightly, a small smile still stretching his lips, Ichigo went back to his laptop while he continued listening. More terrified screaming; the sounds that his Hunter always seemed to feed on, sounds that Ichigo had long ago began associating with a hunt well done.

Abruptly and unexpectedly, the sounds cut off; the screaming ceased and gunfire softly echoed off the surrounding buildings before fading away. Orange brows creased in a confused frown and Ichigo glanced back to his watch.

Twelve minutes and forty-eight seconds. That seemed a bit fast for how many men he had judged his Hunter to be going against. The gunfire should have stopped within the next few minutes, but the screaming should have lasted much longer. Something was off and he could feel it; a gut instinct that clawed at his insides and rang through his skull, born of his and Grimmjow's close working and off duty relationship.

Frowning harder, the Handler let his brown eyes wander back out the window of his car, toward the old building down the block. Alarm bells went off in the back of his mind when he realized the lights inside were back on. Grimmjow wouldn't have bothered with turning them back on. He didn't need them to see in the dark.

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo cleared his mind of anything and everything other than the mission. He slowly closed his laptop and zipped it into it's case before settling it on the seat next to him. He pulled the M1911A1 from the back of his pants and checked the clip as his collar vibrated slightly around his wrist, signaling an incoming transmission from Grimmjow's matching unit. He froze in what he was doing, eyes widening with fear for a brief moment before he went back to what he had been doing as calmly as he could. The blue haired Hunter had never activated his collar before; only in training once a day to insure it still worked.

He slid the clip back into place as he listened to the broadcast.

"_I've heard rumor that Shirosaki gives his hit men drugs that turn humans into animals like you. Is that true? Quite remarkable, he must have a fine scientist under his employ." _The voice was smooth and dangerous and familiar to the Handler. It was the only noise coming through the speaker in his collar at the moment and it sent chills down his spine.

After a second, he placed the voice and realized it was the man they had been looking for and he had to have been speaking with Grimmjow, who had yet to say anything. Not that that was surprising. Ichigo continued listening, looking over his shoulder to see that his driver was also listening. Good, he needed to know the details incase Ichigo needed to go haul Grimm out and the driver would need to pull the car closer so they could make a quick get away.

"_You eliminated...eight...well, the one in your grasp will make nine. You eliminated nine of my men within minutes. That's incredible."_

Ichigo thought he heard a rumbling that could have only been made by the Hunter. The growl coupled with Aizen's words let him be fairly certain that Grimmjow wasn't hurt, at least not badly.

"_What do you say...Grimmjow, was it? Help me train hunters of my own, and I'll spare your life."_

The Handler threw the door of the car open as his lover's deep laughter filled the space through the collar's speaker. He knew Grimmjow would never even pretend to go against the Don. Shirosaki had surrounded himself with a very loyal crew, none of whom would go against him.

The single gun shot that shattered the silence had Ichigo's heart in his throat as he skidded to a halt in the snow up against the building his Hunter...his partner...his lover was in. He prayed to whoever might be listening that Aizen had somehow missed his mark.

Creeping to the side entrance, he could see the door was partly ajar and a hardly concealed pile of bodies lay in the snow near by. He deactivated his collar so that any noise made within the building wouldn't be able to give his position away when it echoed through the speaker. Holding his gun at the ready, Ichigo pressed his back against the wall next to the door and peered around the door frame.

Squinting into the brightened lights, he could see Grimmjow crouched over a body. He was splattered in blood and gore but most of it looked to be from his victims. His dagger glinted in the florescent lighting at his side and his teeth were bared in an animalistic snarl toward someone Ichigo couldn't see. He determined that to be where Aizen was, as the bluenette was completely disregarding the men surrounding him. He counted five others. Aizen made six and he had said Grimmjow had finished nine others; bring the total to fifteen. That seemed like a fairly low number of men to bring along if the don had been expecting them, as he seemed to be implying with the way he was talking to Grimmjow.

The bluenette's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he watched the way the Hunter's body language screamed danger and rage. "Leave him outta this." Grimmjow growled around clenched teeth.

Orange brows furrowed as Ichigo realized he had missed part of the conversation. He tuned back in while he let his gaze wander over the men surrounding his Hunter. Most seemed to be carrying semiautomatic assault rifles, but the place was already pretty shot up. They must have used a lot of ammo trying to shoot down what they couldn't hope to hit.

"Ah, so you can speak more than growling like a dog. I was beginning to wander." Aizen's cool voice drifted to the Handler. "Seeing how you won't be telling me where to find him, I have no need for you."

Cerulean seemed to blaze with a light of their own and Grimmjow snarled a curse just before another gunshot shattered the air. Ichigo's hand flew to his mouth to cover the sound that threatened to bubble up from his throat. Only his training, driven into his brain until it was second nature, kept him from charging in.

The Hunter grunted and wrapped an arm around his abdomen as he dropped from his crouch to one knee, his blade still held in his other hand. Ichigo could see his chest heaving as he silently struggled to draw breath into his stunned lungs around the bullet. Grimmjow's head snapped up to pin Aizen with a glare that could have froze hell as the don snorted quietly; a sound that shouldn't have been so delicate.

"You continue to surprise me. What is that? Four bullets in under two days?" Aizen's amused voice, like he was enjoying tormenting Grimmjow, sent seething anger down Ichigo's spine as he listened, all the while never taking his eyes off of the bluenette. "I really must have you. Any animal can be broken if one knows how."

No. Ichigo heard enough. He raised his handgun and aimed at the man directly on the other side of Grimmjow, facing the door he stood behind; the man that was most likely to act the fastest, being able to see Ichigo once he revealed his position. He took very little time to line up his shot, confident in his skill and knowledge of how his partner worked. He could see that Grimmjow was planted, not preparing to move but in a position to allow him to do so should he need.

The Handler squeezed the trigger. He didn't care if they got the bastard don at this point, just so long as he got Grimmjow out of there.

Grimmjow flinched almost imperceptibly with the sound, his eyes dilating as he stared Aizen down. It wasn't the don's gun, nor did it sound like the assault rifles that had been firing earlier. Without conscious thought, his mind and instincts told him it was Ichigo's gun as the bullet whizzed by; mere inches in front of his face.

As soon as the bullet was passed him, almost before it had even found it's target, the Hunter burst into motion. He reached down and snagged another weighted dagger from it's sheath around his thigh as he dove toward the source of the shot. He heaved the blade at a man across from him, standing only a few meters from Aizen and facing the outside door. Not waiting to see if the blade would strike home, he landed on another guard; a fury of gleaming metal and enraged growling.

The Hunter went for the quickest kill strike he could, doing his best to ignore the burn of the bullet that had lodged so near his lung. He hardly felt the wound it's self, but each deep breath he drew sent fire through his chest. But he didn't have time for that. Grimmjow punched out with his fist and followed up with his dagger. Both hits landed and the man was quickly at his feet, choking on his own blood.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Hunter watched his Handler take aim and fire in rapid succession as he approached Grimmjow in a stealthy crouch. Ichigo crossed the bluenette to place himself between the majority of the guards and the injured Hunter.

"Grimm. Can you run?" He asked, firing another round at a man poking his head out from behind the cover of the support column he had ducked behind. Somewhere in the chaos, Aizen had disappeared and Ichigo was worried the man had another trick up his sleeve.

The bluenette opened his mouth to speak but the words died in his throat as he was unable to draw a deep enough breath to force them out. He settled for nodding and knew his Handler would be paying enough attention to see it. He hated retreating, hated giving up and admitting that he had lost, but he knew that to live through this battle he would need to flee. Aizen had taken him by surprise and stole his upper hand and momentum. He would retreat with his Handler and they could come back for more later.

"Good" Ichigo backpedaled, pushing the Hunter into action. They scrambled toward the door Ichigo had entered through.

They weren't prepared for what awaited them.

Grimmjow threw the door open as he ran as fast as he could, Ichigo right behind him. He ran full tilt into an armed man and received a hard punch from the butt of the man's gun to his already injured chest.

What little air he had been able to draw into his lungs quickly fled with an airy grunt.

"There's my new handler." Aizen's smooth, calm voice accompanied a flood of men. The don raised his handgun, again trained at the blue haired beast that refused to fall.

The gunshot drowned out Ichigo's scream for Grimmjow and the bullet ripped a hole through the Hunter's abdomen with the close range. The spent shell lodged weakly into one of the support beams not to far behind Grimmjow. A strangled whimper fell from the Hunter's lips as his eyes glared at the man who had shot him, but didn't really see what stood in front of him as he finally dropped to his knees.

Ichigo screamed again; a wordless yell, a voicing of his anger and pain and fear for his lover. He dove toward the kneeling bluenette, his gun drawn and trained at the don. He pulled the trigger without hesitation as he tried to command Grimmjow to get back on his feet.

Aizen smirked; a subtle curve on his thin lips and snagged one of the men standing beside him. The bullet plunged into the guard's chest, striking his heart and killing him instantly.

Ichigo pulled the trigger again and cursed at the empty discharge. He desperately reached for one of the spare clips he kept on him but he and his Hunter were already surrounded.

A man tackled the orangette to the ground and away from the still kneeling and bleeding Hunter. His surprised and desperate shout vaguely registered in Grimmjow's fuzzy mind. It was all he needed for the predatory, killer side to wake back up and take over again. The Hunter surged back to his feet, stumbling slightly but it hardly slowed him as he turned and launched himself at the man holding his lover down.

An enraged, growling yell tore from his throat as he attacked. His knife sank deep into the man's exposed back. The scream of surprise and pain fueled the injured bluenette and he forced his own pain into the back of his mind as he whirled around on the next closest soon-to-be dead man. Ichigo would be able to easily enough finish that one off.

Something slammed into his ribcage but the angered Hunter hardly gave it a cursory thought as he let madness and blood lust mingle with his hatred and desperation. No one laid a hand on his Ichigo and lived. He slashed his blood drenched blade at the man in front of him while he kicked out at the man coming in from his unarmed side. His heavy boot collided with a solid gut and was accompanied by a whoosh as the man stumbled backward. His blade missed it's target however, only digging a bleeding gash into the man. It wasn't enough damage to deter the man.

The guard struck back and the bluenette certainly felt the fist that slammed into his face. Another man grabbed his arms, twisting his weapon arm until a solid pop rang through the air. The metallic clank of his butterfly dagger hitting the dirty cement let Grimmjow know he was no longer armed and the butt of a gun was driven into his gut.

He dropped to his knees again, red stained teeth bared in both pain and threat. Ichigo's voice, strained with fear and pain, shouted his name as he was struck across the back of the head.

Grimmjow fell forward, unable to get his arms to listen to his commands and keep himself from falling to the ground. His vision faded for a moment but he refused to give in to unconsciousness and when his eyes focused again he was staring at his Handler's terrified, tear streaked face. Ichigo was crying? It wasn't the same, weak and pathetic crying his enemies did when they faced him. It didn't anger him like it would have if it were anyone else, but rather stirred a sadness into the pit of his gut. What could he possibly being crying about?

Blue brows furrowed and Grimmjow pulled his working arm close to his torso, forcing it to lift his weight as the other remained numbed from the dislocation. The shine from his blood soaked blade caught his attention; only a few feet away and still opened.

A cruel kick landed to his side and he suddenly realized what had hit him there only a few moments before as he felt lead grind against bone and cartilage. Sucking in a desperate breath, Grimmjow forced his eyes to focus on his Handler again.

The orange haired man was being held with his arms locked behind his back and a gun to his head but he seemed impervious to the threat as his large, expressive eyes only found Grimmjow. He struggled and pulled against the men holding him back; fighting to get closer to the downed bluenette. The Hunter realized his lips were moving; shouted, desperate pleas flowing forth.

"Grimmjow! Please, stay down, Grimmjow!" Ichigo begged of his Hunter. For once in his life, why couldn't the man just stay down? But he knew Grimmjow would never do that.

Aizen walked up to the Handler; standing beside him casually as though they were long time friends as he curiously gazed at the struggling Hunter. "Amazing, really. Three of my best men and four bullets to keep your one injured man down." He said conversationally. "Are you sure he's human?"

Ichigo didn't bother acknowledging the don as he kept his wide eyes trained on Grimmjow. The three men had finally beaten the bluenette down. He lay on his side, chest heaving as he attempted to curl around all the wounds marring his damaged body. His teeth were bared in a pain filled grimace and his brilliant, blue eyes were wild; swirling with everything from seething hatred, to pain, to fear for Ichigo's fate. He hardly cared for his own welfare and Ichigo could see that as he watched the man writhe on the dirty cement floor; the promise of death to all those around him was written clearing across the Hunter's very soul.

The Handler turned toward the don as best he could while being held. "Please. Let him go and I'll do whatever you wish." Of course it was a lie. As soon as he knew Grimmjow was out of harm's way he would go back to being a stubborn asshole, but Aizen didn't need to know that.

"A tempting offer, sir." Aizen said, still watching the Hunter. Such a proud, beautiful human. He really did want one of his own. He wanted this one, but he was beginning to see that he wasn't going to be able to have this one. In order to break this creature, he would have to kill him. What a waste. "Get rid of him." The don said, turning to walk away, headed toward the back of the large, empty room. "Taming him would be too much of a hassle."

Ichigo began struggling anew in the man's grasp, shouting until his voice grew hoarse as other's began circling toward Grimmjow again. The bluenette was aware enough to hear his cries and he looked up to see his Handler struggling. The sight wrenched at something in his chest and he forced his body to listen to his commands one last time. He reached out, grasping the handle of his dagger as the first man neared him. He would do anything to save Ichigo.

Uncaring that he was using up the last of his adrenaline fueled energy, Grimmjow staggered as upright as he could, only managing to get to his knees. The guard cursed in surprise and Grimmjow lashed out with the blade. He aimed for an area that he could still reach from his place and still inflict the most damage. His blade sank deep into the man's inner thigh and blood instantly welled from the severed Femoral artery.

Grimmjow dismissed the man he had struck, he would bleed out within minutes. He attempted to turn about to face the men he knew were closing in from behind him. He didn't get the chance and the next thing he knew; he was laying on the ground again, the echo of yet another gun shot ringing in his ears.

The echo's faded and the only thing he could make out were his Handler's cries. "I...Ich...i" He ground out around a mouthful of blood. His lover must have heard the rough, pathetic sound because his legs gave out and he landed heavily on his knees a few meters in front of the downed bluenette.

"Please...please" Ichigo sobbed; begging and pleading as he stared into slightly glazed azure. "just stay down, Grimm...just this once..."

Blue brows furrowed as his lover was hauled back to his feet by the men holding him. His knuckles whitened as his grip on the blood sticky handle of his dagger tightened, but he couldn't find the strength to lift his arm, let alone his body. He watched as Ichigo was dragged away; pleading for him to stay still, stay down, stay alive the entire time, brown eyes refusing to leave his own blue ones even as unashamed tears streamed from them.

He watched as Ichigo was bodily forced through a doorway in the back of the room, men crowding toward him at the edge of his vision, before his world went dark.

A growl; a deep, strained sound, vibrated through the small space. The voice sounded familiar, yet wrong at the same time and a fogy mind struggled to place it.

"Sir? Can yo..." The voice, sounding so far away, faded into nothingness.

Another growl and this time Grimmjow recognized the voice as his own. The hum of a motor reverberated quietly in the space before the engine was gunned. Tires squealed and Grimmjow hissed in pain as the vehicle he was in swerved around traffic, jarring his torn and bloodied body.

"Ich...igo..." The Hunter forced the word between blood stained lips. The sounds felt like sandpaper in his throat and he coughed, ignoring or un-noticing of the think liquid that entered his mouth to drip down his chin.

"N...no, Sir... Can you hear me?"

Grimmjow furrowed his brows and let his head fall to the side, prying dulled azure eyes open to look at the speaker. He regretted the action as the edges of his blurred vision faded and darkened.

A grunt was the driver's only answer as cerulean eyes rolled back and the bluenette slumped in his seat again. Blood drenched the plush, leather interior and dripped to the floor in turgid rivulets. The Hunter's breaths were coming in labored, shallow gasps that wheezed and bubbled every now and then.

The driver stepped on the gas as he swerved around another car, taking the most direct route to the Don's mansion he could. He had no idea how the stubborn Hunter had managed to drag himself out of the building and to the road in the condition he was in, nor did he know what happened to the Handler. After hauling Grimmjow to the car, he had raced back to the ware house to find nothing but bodies and blood stains but no signs of Ichigo and he had quickly went back to his car. He had no idea what had went wrong, but he knew the Don's prized Hunter needed help. And he needed it quickly.

The next time Grimmjow pried his eyes open, he found that he was all too aware of the wounds he had taken. His fingers tightened around the arm rests of the chair he arched away from. Red stained teeth bared in agony, the Hunter would have voiced his pain had he the strength. Instead, a strangled, breathy sound rose from his throat that vaguely resembled a curse. A groan rumbled in his chest and bubbled from his lips.

"Master Grimmjow?" He registered the voice of his normally silent driver through his pain dazed mind. "We are almost to the mansion, Sir. Just a little longer."

Grimmjow forced air into his burning lungs and rolled his head to look out the window. The Don's massive, wrought iron gates loomed over head as they drove through the arched gateway. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped blood stained fingers around the door handle and pushed the car's door open.

The driver slammed on his brakes, car sliding across smooth pavement as he reached over to grab hold of the injured Hunter and keep him from falling out of the still moving car.

As the car came to stop, not far from the large building, Grimmjow struggled free of his driver's grasp and fell to his knees on the ground beside the vehicle. He shouted the Don's name as he tried and failed to right himself.

The Don's door men, confused and shocked expressions on their faces, cautiously approached the injured Hunter. Neither knew how to react and Grimmjow reached up, grasping the front of one of the men's shirts and pulled him to his level.

As he tried to growl out what he needed to tell them, the heavy front doors swung open and Don Shirosaki; looking angry at the interruption of his quiet night, strode into the cool evening air, his white dress shoes crunching on the road salt that kept his stairs and drive way free of ice.

"Wha the hells goin' on!" The Don questioned, snarling as he realized his henchmen weren't at their posts, but rather kneeling near the side of one of his vehicles.

"Shh...Shiro..." Grimmjow gasped, shoving at the men standing suddenly too close for him to breath.

"Wha the fuck? Grimm?" Shirosaki raced the few steps that would take him to his Hunter's side. "Where's Ichi? What happened?"

The bluenette growled, baring his teeth in a glimpse of his normal fury. "I...I'll...kill that...man..."

The Don wrapped an arm around the Hunter's waist, using all his strength to lift the heavy man to his feet. "You!" He pointed to one of his door men. "Call Szayel. Now!"

The other door man ran to hold the door open for his Don as the albino half dragged, half helped the Hunter inside.

Grimmjow did his best to keep his feet under him, to keep moving and keep up with the man trying to help him. Despite his efforts, he kept stumbling and the arm wrapped around his middle felt much to tight as it pressed at his wounds and constricted his already shallow breathing. He pushed at the Don's arm, gasping with the effort before collapsing against the wall as he broke free of Shiro's hold.

"Wha ya doin', Grimm?" The Don asked, approaching the bluenette, keeping his hands in the open. The Hunter wasn't all there at the moment and he didn't want Grimmjow hurting himself further or hurting anyone else in his pain hazed state.

"Can...Can't breath." Grimmjow growled out between breaths. He stumbled a bit against the wall, trying to leave in the direction they had come. He needed to find Ichigo, he needed to kill Aizen and his men. His lover had to be ok.

"We need ta get ya fixed up, Grimm" Shiro said. He ignored the Hunter's struggling and wrapped his arm back around the bigger man. "Come on. Szayel'll be here soon"

Grimmjow was pulled away from the wall, leaving a smear of blood in his wake. Shirosaki continued talking to the Hunter, but the further he got the injured man down the hall, the less responsive he became. The Hunter murmured something about his Handler before his body went completely limp and he passed out again. The Don cursed, adjusting his hold on the large man. He kicked the door to the in-mansion hospital room open and drug Grimmjow to the gurney.

"Better hurry, Szayel." The Don muttered to himself.

••••••

Brown eyes snapped wide as he jerked awake and opened them to an unfamiliar room. The space was bare; a high ceiling, a smooth, polished wooden floor, unadorned white walls. No rugs, nor pictures, no windows, no color. No furniture occupied the room, save for the wooden chair he sat in. He was completely alone, not a single other person or living thing sat in the room with him.

Confused, the Handler scrunched his brow and peered around the blank, empty room. The chair he had been propped up in sat in the middle of the room and he had been stripped of everything except for his pants. The floor was cold beneath his bare feet and he shivered in the chill air of the smallish room.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Ichigo took a deep breath and held it a moment to try to calm his nerves. Flashes of fiery azure and splashes of crimson had Ichigo on his feet, his hands shaking and his breathing ragged with barely checked panic and anger.

The orangette pushed away from the chair in a running step toward the only door that led in or out of the dank little room. He nearly fell to floor when a chain snapped tight around his ankle. Grunting, Ichigo caught himself and glared down at the chain that bound him to the chair.

Ichigo dropped to the floor, wrapping both hands around the five or so foot length of chain, and yanked on it with all his strength. He grunted and cursed with the effort but nothing happened. The wooden seat it's self had been bolted to the floor and no amount of tugging would loosen it. He tried prying the loop of chain over his foot, but found it too tight and his cursing grew louder.

All the Handler could think about was getting back to Grimmjow.

"Aizen! You bastard!" The orange haired man shot to his feet and shouted as loud as his still hoarse voice could manage. He pulled savagely at the constraining links, tears threatening to blur his vision as he yelled the don's name again.

Ichigo promised himself that he would kill Aizen if Grimmjow was dead but changed his mind. No, Aizen would wish that death was the only thing awaiting him if he had killed Grimmjow. By the time Ichigo was done with him, death would be mercy. He had accepted Ichigo's offer, or so it had seemed in a round about way, and if the man went back on his word, Ichigo fully planned to pay him back.

Quiet footsteps sounded outside the room he was being held in. The Handler spun about as keys jingled in the hallway outside; chest heaving with outrage and exertion from pulling on his chain. He would have thrown himself at the man who walked through the door if he hadn't been firmly secured in the center of the room.

"My my. Have you any idea what time it is?" Aizen's cool voice asked. A small, friendly smile tilted his lips but his brown eyes were hard and shining. "To think; I thought you a polite and well mannered man when Shirosaki introduced you."

Ichigo couldn't help but note the venom Aizen had spit out with the higher ranking Don's name. "Where is he?" The Handler didn't bother trying to conceal the hatred in his voice.

Aizen put on a somewhat thoughtful expression. "I would imagine with his owner by now, though I can't really say for sure." He didn't need to ask the orangette who he was talking about, it was obvious the Hunter/Handler team was quite close. He suspected all of Shirosaki's teams were close, it would help them work better in tandem.

"What did you do to him? If you killed..."

"Calm down." Aizen interrupted the upset Handler. "I left the beast in the same state you last saw him. I am a man of my word. I even had my men drag him to the road side so that he would be easier to find, presuming you had a car in the area somewhere."

Ichigo plopped down into the chair as if his legs could no longer support his weight. He couldn't believe it. Aizen had actually let his lover live? It hardly made sense, yet he couldn't quite make himself believe the don was lying. For some odd reason, the Handler believed Aizen to be telling him the truth; though in the back of his mind, he feared it was only himself wanting to believe the man.

Elbows resting on his knees, Ichigo dropped his head in hands. Grimmjow was alive. As long as their driver had found him, he would live. He was too stubborn not to. Behind his hands, brown eyes widened in revelation. Grimmjow would live, and he would be out for blood.

••••••

A ragged groan left the injured man's throat. Szayel paused; pink, perfectly sculpted brows raising as he directed his somewhat surprised gaze to the till then unconscious bluenette's features.

Behind the clear plastic oxygen mask, full lips pressed into a thin line before pealing away from red stained teeth. Blue brows scrunched into a pained expression before azure eyes finally revealed themselves; dull and unfocused.

Shiro motioned for Szayel to continue working and made his way to the Hunter's side. He leaned over a bit, looking into those clouded eyes and watched as they slowly found his face. "Can ya hear me, Grimmjow?"

The bluenette hissed a quiet breath as he felt Szayel pull at something in his lower chest. He swallowed thickly and nodded fractionally to his boss.

The Don turned away from him momentarily to look at the pink haired doctor. "Why'd he feel what ya did?"

Not taking his eyes from his work, Szayel spoke softly from behind the white medical mask he wore. "I have him drugged, but I didn't give him enough to keep him under. Can't have him dying on the operating table, now can we?"

He had given Grimmjow just enough sedative to keep him mostly numbed and drugged up, but not enough to keep him unconscious. After he had passed out, the doctor didn't want to risk his life with extra drugs in his battered system. Keeping him conscious would also allow him to easier determine that everything was running smoothly.

He concentrated on carefully stitching the hole in the Hunter's punctured lung up. He had already drained the fluid from organ, blood mostly. The next wound he would attend to was the bullet that had ripped a hole through the majority of the man's abdomen. Grimmjow had gotten lucky. The bullet was far enough to the side that it torn through a shit load of muscle but missed the vitals and did minimal damage all things considered.

"I see." Shiro said, turning back to the barely conscious Hunter. "How much can ya feel then?" He asked the man, figuring that keeping him talking would help keep him awake and aware.

Grimmjow swallowed around the dry lump in his throat and furrowed his brows as he tried to focus on what the Don was saying. He took a shallow breath, his lungs burning with the effort. "e...enough. 's sharp, feels like somethin's pulling" He slurred through the pain and drugs that flooded his system. He carefully reached up and fumbled with the oxygen mask that covered the lower half of his face. "It's not so bad, though. I like that I can feel what's going on."

Shiro's snowy brows furrowed slightly as he shook his head. He helped Grimmjow remove the mask. "Yer a odd one."

The corner of Grimmjow's lips quirked up and he nodded in agreement before letting his eyes slowly drift around the room. Machinery lined the walls; most of which he knew nothing about. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside the bed he laid in. A few diagrams and pictures hung on the white walls. A sink stood in the corner next to a large window; the currants drawn to keep people walking the halls from being able to peek in. He, the doctor and Shirosaki were the only people in the mansion's hospital room. "W...where's...Ichi?" Even as he spoke his question, the details of the hunt began filtering through his mind.

Under the doctor's hands, lean muscle contracted and tensed as the pieces of what had happened began to fall into place. Neither he nor the Don knew exactly what had happened. No one other than Grimmjow knew. But with what the driver had told Shiro, he and Szayel had a decent idea of what happened to the Handler.

"You must stay relaxed, Grimmjow." Szayel cautioned while he worked on flushing another of the Hunter's many wounds.

Grimmjow growled through his clenched teeth. He struggled through the numbing and sedative effects of the drugs and pushed his upper body from the gurney, propping himself on one elbow. His abdomen burned like some held a match to it and his other arm tingled unpleasantly as an after affect from the dislocation. His already foggy head swam from the drugs but he could only concentrate on one thing; one person.

Szayel made a sort of quiet squeaking sound and Shiro heard him fumbling with his medical supplies as he lay a pale hand on his prized Hunter's shoulder, hoping that the man's movement hadn't caused him any more damage. "Grimm, Ya need ta stay down." He said quickly, applying gentle pressure and trying to make the man lay back down. He noted how Grimmjow flinched slightly at his words, determination and sorrow flashing across his features. "Le' the doc do his job, yeah?"

The only answer the Don received was another growl as Grimmjow continued struggling into an upright position. Using his dislocated arm, the bluenette weakly pushed Shiro away from him. The albino allowed himself to be pushed back. When the Hunter tried and failed to sit up, he reached out and grabbed the busy doctor's shirt collar instead.

Surprised by how much strength the Hunter could still muster, Szayel's eyes widened fractionally as he scrambled to settle his instruments down before he did more harm to what he was trying to fix with the objects.

Grimmjow pulled Szayel close, baring his teeth as he panted to catch the breath he had lost in his exertion. Such a simple movement. He felt weak and pathetic and hated that it took so much of his energy just to drag the scrawny doctor to him. "Fix me." The Hunter growled in the pinked haired man's face. "Now."

Szayel gently patted the hand fisted in his shirt, doing quite well at staying calm in the face of an angered Hunter's obvious simmering temper. He could see so much swirling in the man's cyan eyes; rage, hatred, a crazed need for blood but what stood out the most was the overwhelming look of fear and anguish in those normally bright and lively eyes.

The doctor locked gazes with the bluenette before he spoke. "I'm working on it, Grimmjow" His tone was quiet and understanding. "Lay back down, if you will, so that I may continue to do so"

The Hunter held onto him a moment longer, brow creased and blue eyes shining with barely hidden emotions that most wouldn't believe him to possess before he broke their stare and nodded slightly.

The doctor helped lower him back to the table before returning to his work. "I'll will do my best to insure you can go after him" Szayel whispered, almost under his breath as he picked up a needle and thread. He had a lot of work and a long night ahead of him.

Shiro drug a chair over to the Hunter's bed side, careful to stay out of the doctor's way. He studied Grimmjow's face for a moment and found he didn't like the painful emotions he saw there. "We'll get 'im back, Grimm."

It was a promise. Aizen would pay for what he had stolen away from he and from his man. Nothing worked better than a pissed off Hunter.

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><p><strong>I can never resist the opportunity to beat the hell out of the hot characters... But that's alright; bloody, beaten Grimmjow is sexy~<br>Let me know what you thought of the chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: The longest chapter of this little story yet 8D  
>On a side note; (for those who have been asking) Monsters and Men is still in the works! I do not plan on abandoning it! My muse has just been severely sidetracked with this story, not that anyone is complaining ^_~ I think I will probably finish this story up (one, two more chapters at the most) and then go back to M&amp;M<br>**

**anyway! Enjoy~  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"When I open this door, yer ass better still be in tha' bed" The Don said, his watery voice purposefully loud so that the occupant of the suite would hear him as he inserted the key into the door lock.<p>

It hadn't even been a week since the blue haired hit man was dragged back to his mansion bleeding and broken and yet he could hardly keep the man from throwing himself out the front door. The first couple days had seen the bluenette unconscious most of the time, but he was quickly regaining his strength and Shiro knew he wouldn't be able to hold Grimmjow from going to find his lover for much longer. In the mean time, he had Szayel working overtime to help the Hunter recover faster and he had Byakuya digging up everything he could find on the man that had kidnapped his favored Handler.

Shirosaki swung the door open and lifted a single, snowy brow at the bluenette, though he was hardly surprised.

Grimmjow, one hand wrapped around the edge of the door frame that led into his bathroom to help steady himself, let his weight lean against the wall as he gave the Don a sheepish, strained smirk. His abdomen was still wrapped in a sturdy, white bandage in most places and he hadn't bothered to attempt getting dressed. His black shorts hung low over his hips, revealing more of the deep bruising from the abuse he had taken nearly blending with the fine trail of dark blue.

"Had to piss." He mumbled in answer to the look Shiro was giving him; the angered, sorrowful scowl that had been present since he had pieced together what happened during his hunt still firmly in place.

Szayel brushed passed the Don in a hurry, rushing to the injured man's side. "What are you doing?" He hissed at the bluenette, though he wasn't stupid enough to get within the man's striking distance as he chastised him. "You should have waited for someone to help you get out of bed"

Grimmjow curled his lip at the man and carefully pushed off the wall, headed toward the small sitting area that held a couch and a few reclining chairs. "I'm not fuckin' breakable." He said under his breath as he passed the pink haired doctor.

"On the contrary, you are quite fragile right now" Szayel said, his tone superior.

The bluenette lowered himself to the couch, sighing quietly as he took the weight off his still damaged body and grabbed the nearest object that was small enough for him to throw. Luckily for Szayel, it happened to be a stuffed cat someone had dared to have delivered to the injured Hunter the night after he had been carried into his personal suite. He had woken up with one arm wrapped around the thing and had insisted that he hated it ever since. The person that had had it sent to him still hadn't revealed his or her identity though he had an idea of who it could have been.

Szayel easily caught the little stuffed animal and set it on the coffee table beside the couch. He carefully approached the unstable man and set his bag of medical supplies nearby before looking up to Don Shiro.

Shiro nodded slightly and crossed the room so that he was standing within the bluenette's field of vision. He crossed his arms over his white suit clad chest. "Grimm, we think we know where he's bein' held" He said quietly, watching the Hunter.

Grimmjow's head snapped up, his azure eyes pinning the Don with a glacial stare. The muscles in his chest and stomach tensed and Szayel gently placed a hand on the man's shoulder to keep him from getting up. Grimmjow didn't bother acknowledging the pink haired doctor but stayed seated.

"Where?" The word was a demand and it had been the loudest sound the Hunter had made since he came back without his Handler.

Grimmjow absently fingered the teal and silver bracelet around his wrist as he stared up at Shiro. He had debated trying to make a connection to Ichigo's collar since the day he had woken up long enough to think of it, but had quickly put the thought out of his mind. If Ichigo still had his collar on him, activating it may very well put the Handler in more danger and if Aizen had it, then the man would know that they hadn't given up on Ichigo yet. He would hold off on trying to contact his lover until he was inside that bastard's mansion when it would be too late to matter.

"Now, Grimmjow, ya gotta let Szayel do his job an' let me do mine before ya can go chargin in after 'im. Ya understand?"

Grimmjow snarled, his usual fiery temper setting his swirling blue eyes ablaze but he nodded his agreement. He would do anything to get Ichigo back. Anything. He would die trying if that's what it took, but he knew he wouldn't be able to help his lover if he wasn't healthy and healed.

"Good. We think he's bein' held within the confines of Aizen's mansion. Not one a his outbuildin's." Typically, a prisoner would be held in a separate building away from the don's main home. Rarely would a captive be brought to the mansion; it was bad business and left too much direct evidence behind.

The Hunter bared his teeth in anger and Shiro could see the gears of the man's mind working as the implications settled in.

"Byakuya's workin' on gettin' the blueprints ta his mansion as we speak."

Grimmjow nodded slightly, his brows pulling together as he sat forward to give the doctor easier access to the bandages wrapping his torso. It was comforting to know that Shirosaki intended to help and support him in his decision to find his Handler and lover.

Szayel went about his business as the two discussed the topic of how to get to Ichigo, Shirosaki doing most of the talking while Grimmjow listened. The doctor unwrapped the Hunter's abdomen, pressing his skilled hands to the bruises lightly and checking the state of damage. As was quickly becoming typical with the Don't favored killer, Grimmjow's wounds were well on their way to mending. He would like to tell the bluenette to stay put and rest for another couple weeks, but he knew they didn't have that kind of time and nothing would keep Grimmjow in the mansion for that long.

••••••

Grunting around the fist that collided with his gut, Ichigo did his best to stay on his feet. He coughed as he sucked air into his lungs and finally let his legs give out on him. He was rewarded with a knee to his face for his change in position and his head snapped back hard and fast enough to knock him the rest of the way to the smooth, wooden floor.

Hands securely tied behind his back, the orangette struggled to right himself, to at least get back to his knees. Blood trickled from his nose and split lip to drip to the floor below his face. His hair was wet with blood and sweat and matted to his skull. The black and purple marks covering most of his face and body were evidence of how his last few days had been going.

Panting, Ichigo gave up on trying to get back to his knees. He let his head fall to the ground and gaged as he coughed with enough force to bring bile up his throat. He writhed and gasped on the floor, curling around his abused abdomen but he refused to cry out. No matter how much they hit him, no matter how much they tortured him; he refused to give them that satisfaction.

The guard that had been standing by the closed door turned to his burly partner. "Boss's comin'" He said as he looked down on the mess that was Ichigo.

Grunting out his reply, the man that had been taking his turn to beat on the orange haired captive took one last shot at the downed man. The kick to his ribs sent the Handler rolling across the floor until he slammed against the wooden chair that sat bolted in place in the center of the room. The guard followed him and bent to lift the smaller man from the floor.

Ichigo was pulled to his feet by his arm. He hissed under his breath in pain but still refused to cry out. He was roughly pushed backward and tripped into a sitting position onto the chair. The guard locked the chain back around his ankle before taking his place by the door again.

The orangette hung his head, still trying to catch his fled breath as he wiggled slightly to adjust the weight he was placing across his bound arms. The wooden back of the chair dug painfully across his bare arms and back and the duct tape binding his wrists had already cut and torn his flesh raw.

Moments later, the door was opened up and the two guards bowed respectfully as their don walked through. Aizen, dressed to impress and a smug, haughty little smile on his face, drug the second chair that had been brought in the day before closer to the one Ichigo was collapsed in. He sat down and made himself comfortable; crossing one leg over the other and oh so carefully rolling the sleeves of his pale green button up shirt above his elbows.

Ichigo's brows furrowed as he watched through the curtain of his dirty orange hair. He swallowed dryly, realizing that Aizen meant to try to make him talk again. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't betray Don Shirosaki. He hadn't talked the last time Aizen had tried, he wouldn't this time and he wouldn't the next either. He never would. It didn't matter what the rival don did to him, Ichigo would not give up Shiro's secrets. He wasn't going to help Aizen take down Shiro's operation and he wasn't going to train any Hunter/Handler teams of hit men like his capture had been demanding. Aizen would have to kill him. No amount of torture would break his will. How would he ever hope to face Grimmjow again if he gave in?

"I see you've been beating yourself up again." Aizen's calm voice penetrated the quiet room and pulled the orangette from his thoughts. It was a mocking jab at his inability to defend himself against the don's men; a way of rubbing his helpless state in his face and shoving it down his throat. The snide remark made him curl his lip in distaste and anger, but he still refused to make a sound. Not even so much as the angered snarl he wanted to voice was allowed to pass his tongue.

A quick thought made him laugh in his mind; if he were Grimmjow, he would spitting and hissing at the end of his chain trying to tear into Aizen with his teeth. But he wasn't quite that strong.

When Ichigo didn't react, the don continued. "It's been a while since the last time you were fed. You must be hungry by now, Ichigo. Thirsty as well."

The very thought had his mouth watering. He didn't really know how long he had been in Aizen's clutches. He had given up trying to keep track. But he knew that it must have been at least a full day since he was given even so mush as a drink of water. Ichigo furrowed his brow again. This was Aizen he was dealing with. Nothing was as it seemed and so he shook his head in the negative; a single, quick and barely noticeable movement.

Aizen's smile became strained for a split second before returning to the subtle curve he always held but his eyes didn't loose the hard gleam that looked as though they could cut diamond.

Ichigo couldn't quite suppress the shiver that ran down his spine but he did well in masking it as a shift in his position.

Aizen smirked, having seen through the beaten man's ploy and rose from his chair. "Come then, Ichigo. No need to risk your health just for the sake of being stubborn."

Ichigo struggled to his feet and waited for one of the guards to unchain him so that he could be led down the hall after the don. There was no point in fighting against it. He had literally been thrown out of the room before. The don's men cared nothing for his injuries or well being. They had and would do anything it took to force him to his feet and make him follow after Aizen and they would enjoy doing it.

The burly guard knelt beside him, yanking on the chain and nearly pulling his legs out from under him as he unlocked the leash. As expected, the other guard grasped him by the arm and roughly shoved him toward the door. Ichigo stumbled through the door way, blinking in the harsh, bright light of the hallway, and followed behind Aizen. Every time he fell too far behind, a guard shoved him forward, nearly pushing him to the floor. Anytime he got too close to the don, a guard would grab his bound wrists and tug painfully. Any chance they had to deliver pain to their captive, they took with great joy.

He was led to a fairly normal looking dining room, though it was smaller and less grand than the one Don Shiro entertained guest in. Aizen's tastes in decor were much simpler and more sterile than Shiro's, Ichigo noted absently.

In the center of the room stood a long, low wooden table. A cloth covered the rectangular surface, not quite reaching the tiled floor. It was the only room he had been in yet that didn't have a wooden floor. Two chairs had been situated around the table; one at each end so that the occupants were the furthest possible distance away while still facing each other.

Ichigo judged the table it's self to be about ten feet long, not that it really mattered to him but he did his best to stay alert and memorize every room he was brought to. He had no way of knowing if the information would prove useful later, though a part of him greatly hoped it would.

Aizen sauntered toward the chair at the head of the table and one of the guards rushed over to pull it out for him.

"Very good. Now, if you two would be so kind as to help our guest into his seat" The don said as he lowered himself into his chair. The polite words left no room for debate and were as much a command as a request.

"Of course, Aizen-sama" The guards both responded and Ichigo shifted in his stance, warily eyeing the two men. His nerves were shot and both the logical side and instinctual side of him screamed that all was not as it seemed. The Handler, hands still bound behind him, took a step backward and away from the approaching men.

"Now, Ichigo, do behave" Aizen called softly to him, his tone mocking and amused under the polite facade.

"Get away from me" Ichigo hissed at the guards as he continued to back away. "I'm not hungry anyway, leave me alone" His voice began to take on a desperate edge as he glanced at Aizen and back to the men slowly approaching him.

"Hmmm, very well." Aizen rang a small bell that sat on the table near him and a servant entered through a swinging door with a tray of plates. The older gentleman arranged the plates around the don before bowing and taking his leave. "At least sit and have a drink of water, if you would. Or tea if you prefer" Aizen bid the obviously frightened Handler. "You must be parched." He cut a bite from his perfectly cooked steak and chewed as he watched his men finally corner the orange haired man.

"N...no, thank you" Ichigo all but whimpered. He lashed out as best he could without the use of his arms. His kick caught one of the guards in the gut. The man doubled over but his partner seized the Handler's moment of imbalance to throw him to the floor.

The two men were quickly upon him, dealing a few cruel punches before hauling him to his feet again. Ichigo was dragged to the end opposite Aizen were he was pushed forward until he was bent over, upper half laying across the table. One of the men pulled a utility knife from his belt and cut the tape away from Ichigo's wrists.

As the orangette attempted to pull his arms in front of his body, they were grabbed and yanked out to the sides. Too quickly for his weakened body to react, the guards easily overpowered him and flipped him around. By the time Ichigo began struggling against the men, he was laying on his back across the table; his head facing the foot of it and the unoccupied chair while his feet neared where Aizen sat.

One man on either side of him, Ichigo was held down while the table cloth was pulled up and shackles were revealed. His arms and legs were secured in place; the unforgiving metal cold as it bit into his bare flesh. Ichigo continued to struggle for a moment, but quickly realized it was useless and stilled as he caught his wind. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; fortifying his resolve and the promise he had made to himself, seeing only flashes of brilliant, swirling blue fire. He opened his eyes again and peered around the dining room while he listened to the quiet sounds of Aizen eating at the head of the table he was tied to.

The two guards disappeared through the swinging door and returned moments later; each carrying a heavy looking bucket in either hand. They walked carefully across the room toward him and Ichigo heard the slosh of liquid in the containers.

The men set the four buckets down on the floor around where the second, unoccupied chair sat. One pulled a dry, clean white towel from his back pocket and stooped to dunk it in one of the buckets of water.

Ichigo's eyes widened as he listened and watched what he could see of the guards' activities. He raised his head and tried to look down his body to Aizen, but a hand fisted in his hair and none to gently yanked his head back down. The now soaked cloth was draped across his face; the weight and water making it nearly impossible for him to breath. He tried to turn his head and dislodge the wet towel, but the hand in his hair pulled and forced him to keep his head in place.

Panic welled up in the Handler as Aizen began to speak. "You know; you could make this much easier on all of us by agreeing to my terms."

"Never" Ichigo half yelled, his voice muffled by the wet cloth. He heard Aizen's silverware scrape quietly against the plate, followed by a quiet grunt and the sloshing of water from one of the buckets. Before he knew it, a slow but steady stream of water was being poured across the towel.

Ichigo coughed and gaged as water entered his nose and mouth. Ice cold water splashed across his face and body, biting deep and stealing the feeling from his limbs as he continued to try to draw breath. Within seconds, he was gasping for air and only managing to pull water into his lungs. He was drowning and he hadn't even left the don's home.

After what seemed like hours, the water stopped pouring and the cloth was pulled away. Ichigo coughed, expelling the water from his lungs and nearly vomiting in the process. He gasped and pulled desperately needed oxygen into his lungs. After he choked for a few moment's, Aizen spoke again, this time much nearer his head.

"Are you ready to talk yet, Ichigo?"

The Handler, shaking violently and still desperately trying to breath shook his head from side to side almost forcefully. "F...fuck you" He spat out at the bastard that was trying to break him. This man had nearly killed his lover. This man was trying to use him against Shiro. He would never give Aizen what he wanted.

"You heard the man" Aizen said, his voice calm and collected like always.

The bucket was lifted again as the soaked cloth was dropped back over his face. Ichigo struggled to free himself, struggled to dislodge the cloth that kept the water from simply showering over his face and dripping away. He gaged and coughed and struggled to breath in more than just water; cursing Aizen with everything he had as he grew light headed and felt like he was drowning. Panic stole his common sense and fear told him he would die here and now but all he could see behind his tightly closed eyelids was blue.

••••••

Grimmjow took a deep, even breath; feeling the way his wounds and stitches pulled and stretched as his chest expanded. He held the breath, blocking out the world around him for a moment before letting the air slowly back out through his nose and opening his eyes.

He didn't care what the doctor had to say. He didn't care what his boss was trying to tell him. He couldn't sit still and do nothing for another day. In his mind, his body was healed enough. He would make it work. He had to make it work.

Grimmjow sheathed his various chosen knives; each blade in it's designated holder. Climbing to his feet, the Hunter grabbed a tight black shirt from his wardrobe and carefully pulled it over his head. The smooth, form fitting fabric felt cool against his muscled chest and soothed some of the burn in his mending body.

He pulled on a pair of black combat boots that reached mid shin, leaving the bottoms of his dark, acid washed jeans tucked into them. He tied the laces and tucked the ends into the top of the boots as well, insuring that they wouldn't get caught on anything and come untied.

Grimmjow wrapped the brace of throwing daggers around his thigh and tucked his butterfly knife in his back pocket, the chrome handle had been polished until it's shine matched the malevolent gleam in the Hunter's cyan gaze. Another combat knife tucked into his left boot, the bluenette strode out his door, shoving the unpleasant stretching sensations from his injuries into the back of his mind.

The Don wasn't hard to find. His distorted voice carried easily down the corridors as he reprimanded some unfortunate man for not finding the information he had been digging for.

Grimmjow turned the corner to see his boss sneer in the hapless man's face.

"Get the fuck outta here an' do yer job." The albino Don said, pulling a cigarette from the inside pocket of his white jacket. He lit up and turned to head back toward his office, almost running straight into the silent Hunter. "ah! Grimm, how ya feelin? Good ta see ya up an' movin' round"

"I'm going after him." The bluenette said, his voice low and gravely. Nothing would deter him from finding Ichigo.

Shiro's ashen brows rose fractionally before a light sigh escaped him. He reached up and gently placed a hand upon the bigger man's shoulder. "Ya know I wanna find 'im too, but I'm not sure now's the time"

"You can't stop me, boss. You can't keep me here." Shiro could see the bluenette's determination and knew the words to be true. Ichigo had been the only one to be able to stop Grimmjow when he really had his mind set and well...Ichigo wasn't there to talk sense into the man at the moment.

"An I don't wanna stop ya, Grimmjow. But...ya realize that ya still got a way's till yer fully healed and...he may not...he..." The Don struggled with what he was trying to get across to the near broken Hunter. He would have never imagined it was possible for the man standing in front of him to be in a state like this. He had seen Grimmjow take wounds that would kill an elephant; broken bones, bullets, he'd been poisoned and beaten, hit by a car and nothing had ever come this close to breaking the man.

Everything about Grimmjow screamed a broken, desperate man. Everything except his brilliant, too blue eyes.

"He's not dead." The fire lighting those cool cyan orbs promised death to the man responsible for taking his lover away. They swirled and sparked with barely restrained rage and hatred. They flickered with the gaze everyone close to the Don had come to associate with this particular Hunter; a man ready to kill and dance in the blood, a man that was barely human at times. "Aizen wanted him for a reason. He's not dead."

Shiro was silent a moment, studying his Hunter's expression. Grimmjow had a point. There had to be a reason Aizen had chosen to take Ichigo with him. "Alright. Le's see what Byakuya found fer us then."

Blue brows un-furrowed slightly and Grimmjow nodded. He turned and followed the Don back to his office.

The raven haired, lower ranking don was waiting for them; his posture perfect as he sat looking like dignified royalty in one of Shiro's plush, leather office chairs. Byakuya stood and bowed slightly to Shirosaki before nodding ever so slightly in greeting to the Hunter as well.

Grimmjow could feel the man's calm, appraising gaze on him but it wasn't the same as Aizen's. The Hunter matched his look; cool, calm grey against vivid, wild azure.

A silent moment passed. The lower ranking don must have found what he was looking for. He nodded almost imperceptibly again and turned back to Shiro, laying flat a rolled up blueprint to a rather large mansion upon the Don's desk.

Grimmjow watched, silently memorizing the layout as Byakuya and Shiro marked out certain areas with a silver sharpie; the front gates, other entrances, the dining hall, the grand hall, living quarters, kitchens, offices, servant quarters. The list went on. When they were finally done identifying and marking the majority of the rooms, they were left with a half dozen rooms too small to be the elaborate office's Aizen seemed partial to but too large to be a closet or other none consequential space.

"This one." Grimmjow tapped the blueprint over one of the rooms on the eastern side of the complex before he began rechecking his weapons and equipment.

"Logically, this one make's more sense. I am betting this to be our best chance" Byakuya spoke up, indicating a more central location. The don's personal quarters weren't far away and it would have been the hardest out of the small rooms to find from outside the mansion.

"I have ta agree wit' Byakuya on this, Grimm" Shiro said, still studying the marked up blueprints.

"No. You're over thinking it." Grimmjow didn't bother looking up to see which room the two don's were indicating.

"How can you be so sure?" Byakuya's quiet voice called back to him as the Hunter started opening the door to Shiro's office.

"Instinct." Grimmjow paused in the door way and glanced back to Shirosaki, catching the man's haunting gaze. A predatory gleam flashed through blue eyes.

The raven haired don started to question further but Shiro halted him with an upraised hand and his watery voice.

"K, Grimm, ya've never been wrong before. We leave at dusk." His new ally seemed confused and apprehensive about the Don's decision, but Grimmjow had an uncanny ability to sense these sorts of things and Shiro would trust the Hunter's instincts. Grimmjow was his best for a reason, after all.

The bluenette nodded and took his leave. Shiro was relieved and a little surprised when the man took a left toward his and his Handler's suite rather than a right that would have led toward the front gates. He turned back to the lower ranking don to begin planning.

••••••

Ichigo pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead across them. His teeth chattered slightly, sounding loud and hollow in his skull. He had lost feeling in his hands and arms long ago and he was sure his fingers would be blue if only he could see them. Blue wouldn't be such a bad color. But they were behind him, his wrists firmly secured by duct tape once again and the chain back in place around his ankle.

It had been hours, maybe even a full day since Aizen had put him through the water torture. He had no way of knowing how long it had been in reality and he honestly didn't care. All that mattered was that he hadn't talked.

Ichigo had passed out from lack of oxygen and too much water intake and had only recently woken back up. He knew he must have been out for a while, though. His long, orange hair was dry from what he could tell and the pants he wore, the same ones he had been wearing during Aizen's torment and the whole of the time he had been there were also nearly dry.

All that was left of what had happened was a small, nearly dried puddle of water slowly soaking into the wood below him. Ichigo shivered and tried to curl in around himself further, ignoring the hard chair leg that was digging into his bare ribs; the bones seemingly becoming more visible as the days passed.

Footsteps outside had the Handler's dulled, brown eyes widening but he refused to look up. The door unlocked and was pushed open. He watched the person's shadow until expensive, black shoes entered his field of vision, which was still trained on the wooden planks below him.

Ichigo struggled to keep his breathing calm and his shivering to a minimum as a warm hand reached out and settled on his bare shoulder. It was Aizen. He knew it was Aizen without looking up but the man had never personally touched him before. The warmth of his hand made Ichigo's stomach roil like a choppy sea.

"I know you're awake, Ichigo. There is no sense in trying to pretend" Aizen said in a calm, quiet voice.

Ichigo snorted; a sound half way between disgusted and a laugh. He had nothing to say to this man. The hand on his shoulder slowly moved and gently tugged a greasy lock of his hair. It made him want to shave his head.

"Still being quiet, are you? So much stronger than I expected, I like that" Aizen said quietly, almost a whisper, as if he were talking to himself more than Ichigo.

The Handler's brow furrowed and he jerked his head away to pull his hair out of Aizen's fingers.

Aizen sighed almost silently. "You know. It's quite late, if you stay quiet no one will even have to know." The don murmured to his captive before digging in the pocket of his perfect, black slacks.

Ichigo frowned, not understanding what Aizen was telling him. The man's hand lowered toward the chain around his ankle, a small, silver key held between his thin fingers. The Handler watched him unlock the chain, thinking that the don planned on finding another way to torture him for information that he would never give.

The orangette was led down the hall way, Aizen's personal guards strangely absent. Had he lost that much strength since being brought to the don's mansion? Was he so small of a threat that they didn't even feel the need to guard him around Aizen any longer?

The halls were vacant and silent. The only sounds were those of their foot steps; Aizen's hard soled, dress shoes and Ichigo's bare feet. There were no windows lining the corridor, but he knew it to be late. Even had Aizen not mentioned it; the mansion seemed at rest and empty. It felt wrong and Ichigo found that he almost wished the don's henchmen were accompanying them.

They turned a corner, Aizen walking by his side rather than in front of him. Ichigo did his best to memorize the directions and routes they were taking; trying to keep himself oriented in the maze of the mansion's halls.

Aizen pulled up short, stopping at an elaborate, closed door. The don pulled the ring of keys from his pocket again and flipped through a few until he came to a golden skeleton key. The door unlocked, he pushed it open and held it, motioning for Ichigo to enter the room before him.

Ichigo stepped into the luxurious office space, his brows furrowing as he looked around the room. It had to have been Aizen's personal office, not one of his lackeys'. A small, black leather couch sat along the wall to his left. To his right sat a giant, mahogany desk and black leather office chair. No pictures hung on the bare, white walls but the organized, sterile feel screamed Aizen's name.

The door was closed and locked with soft click behind him, snapping his attention back to the dangerous man he was being held captive by. Aizen walked around behind him and came to his opposite side, leaning back against his immaculately organized desk top. A small smirk played on his thin lips as his gaze wandered Ichigo's bared upper body.

Ichigo's eyes widened and he shrank back a small step, feeling defenseless and cornered. Nothing in the don's gaze was friendly or welcoming and the Hunter started to realize he hadn't been brought to the office for torture.

"Have a seat, Ichigo." Aizen said. His tone was still calm and casual but an undercurrent of a demand hid just below the surface and Ichigo began shivering anew as fear and adrenaline coursed through his system.

"N...no." He whispered back.

Aizen grasped his bound arm and roughly shoved him toward the couch. Ichigo fell to a half sitting, half laying position on the furniture and struggled to right himself, wide eyes staring at the powerful man slowly stalking toward him.

"Get away from me" Ichigo half begged, his heart pounding painfully within his ribcage.

The don grabbed a handful of orange hair and tilted Ichigo's head up and back. The orangette gasped at the pain in his neck and scalp and was forced to lean back against the couch. Aizen's lips covered his own, the man's tongue licking a slick trail across his bottom lip. Ichigo whimpered, squeezing his eyes closed and trying desperately to turn his head.

"Now now. Be good, Ichigo, and perhaps I'll be gentle." Aizen whispered against his lips, his voice dark and husky.

He didn't understand. This couldn't be happening. Being starved? Fine, he could ignore the pangs in his stomach. Beaten? Great, bruises and broken bones healed. Torture? Yes please. Anything but this. He felt weak and pathetic as he realized that he was almost powerless to stop it.

A flash of enraged blue shown beneath his tightly closed eyelids for just a moment and Ichigo let a small growl crawl up his throat as he struggled away from the don.

Aizen pulled away without a sound, the same fake little smile curving his lips. He grabbed hold of the Handler and flipped him over, easily over powering Ichigo from his position. Using one hand, the don pressed his head into the cushion of the couch.

"S..Stop! Get away from me!" Ichigo's screams were muffled by the couch as he struggled with everything he had left. He was gasping for air, unable to draw breath through the cushion but still he struggled and screamed.

When Aizen suddenly pulled away, Ichigo froze, eyes wide and confused. The sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears, the sound of his pulse beating wildly just below it. He was hoisted to his feet by a strong hand, startling him. Aizen flipped a knife open and cut the tape away from his wrists.

"These are in the way" The man said by way of explanation as grabbed a new role of duct tape from his desk.

Rubbing at his abraded wrists, Ichigo warily eyed him, following his every movement like a frightened animal. He tensed up, preparing to fight back or flee if he could but a flash of teal and silver from Aizen's desk caught and held his attention.

His collar, along with a few other smaller items he had had with him when he was kidnapped sat on the desk top. It was unclasped and looked as though Aizen had been toying with it, most likely trying to figure out how to work it. That was if he had figured out what it did yet, but Aizen was a smart man, he had surely at least guessed at what it did. After all, he had to have noticed Grimmjow's matching one when they were in the warehouse together.

The Handler was pulled from his thoughts by a ripping sound. His gaze snapped back to Aizen as he tore a long strip of duct tape from the roll. Approaching Ichigo, he didn't waste time in trying to get the stubborn Handler to cooperate. Instead, he dealt a quick punch to the orangette's jaw, stunning him and nearly throwing him to the floor.

His body weakened from the days without nourishment and hours of torment coupled with the dazing punch, Ichigo could hardly struggle as his wrists were captured and rebound in front of him. He was pushed forward until he slammed against the edge of the desk, his elbows and ribs digging into the solid wood.

One of Aizen's hands pressed against his back to hold him down while the other yanked at the waist line of his tattered, once nice slacks. "N...no...Please" Ichigo begged, finally starting to fight against his capture again. "Stop, please don't..."

His pleas fell on deaf ears and he heard a zipper being drawn down as Aizen freed himself. His pleading turned into screams and Ichigo desperately searched for anything he could use against Aizen. The don's rigid member brushed the curve of his naked cheek and Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut tight as salty tears streamed down his face, stinging the cuts and bruises that marred one half of his features.

He fought and struggled, doing everything in his power to get away, to stop the man behind him. He screamed and cursed, hoping against all odds that someone would hear him. But even if someone could hear him, it would have to be one of Aizen's men and no one within the complex would dare go against the don.

He was helpless. He was powerless. And for probably the first time since being captured; he was truly afraid.

Just as Aizen was preparing to shove forward and enter him, uncaring of the physical and emotional pain he was about to cause, a soft buzzing caught the Handler's attention. Wide, terrified brown eyes immediately fell on the teal and silver collar sitting only a foot in front of him. The devise buzzed again and Ichigo reached out with his bound hands, desperately fumbling with it as he continued to scream and struggle. He kicked backward and heard a hissed curse come from the don.

In his brief moment of freedom, Ichigo found the button and pressed it to connect the two way call. He was tackled to the ground, the breath whooshing from his lungs with a grunt as he landed heavily, a larger body on top of him. The collar fell from his grasp as he grabbed hold of Aizen's shirt. Now that the man was in front of him, albeit, on top of him, Ichigo was able to land a fairly solid hit.

"G...Get off of me!" He screamed, fighting and pushing Aizen away. He wouldn't allow this to happen, not without a fight.

The man chuckled and kneed the orangette in the groin before grabbing another handful of his pretty hair. Even as greasy and dirty as it was, not having been washed in almost a week, it was still such a beautiful shade.

"_Ichigo?"_

Both men froze at the slightly muffled, yet unmistakable deep voice that filtered through the speaker of the dropped collar.

"Grimmjow? Grimmjow!" Ichigo yelled as he lashed out at Aizen.

••••••

A knock sounded at his door. It took Grimmjow less then a second to cross the kitchenette space and throw it wide.

Shiro, Byakuya and a half dozen other men stood in the hall way; all armed and all looking ready for a fight. One of their own had been taken. It was one thing for a man to be killed, that's how the business worked, but it was different when the man wasn't dead. Yet none of them could match the insane need for blood Grimmjow felt, and more than one eyed the famed Hunter warily as he curled his lip and stepped through the opened portal.

The bluenette paused and a cruel, hate filled grin slowly stretched his lips; showing over sharp canines. The Hunter took a step backward and disappeared into his and his missing Handler's suite.

Moments later, he returned, cruel smirk still in place, promising suffering and agony to his enemies. Everyone gathered around the Don was glad they were on the same team as Grimmjow as the Hunter tucked a matching set of Saberclaw daggers into a unique sheath strapped across his broad back. Their black, teflon coated surface and black grips made them nearly match his black shirt but did nothing to hide the danger the weapons posed.

The Saberclaws had been a gift from Ichigo years ago; the man being the only reason Grimmjow even bothered to remember that he had a birthday. Their cruel, sickle shape and long blade were capable of dealing much more damage than a normal blade. A serrated edge lined above the grip, making it possible to still punch out much like knuckledusters but with more than just blunt trauma behind the strike.

As much as Grimmjow loved the twin set, he was unable to use them often. Their odd shape and large size made concealing them difficult, which is why he usually chose his butterfly dagger. But for tonight's mission, they were perfect. He didn't need to worry about citizens seeing him or his weapons. He could spill blood and shred men until that bastard drowned in the gore and no one would stop him.

So lost in his thoughts of Ichigo and how badly he wanted to hear Aizen scream, Grimmjow hardly noticed as he climbed into the Don's car. The ride was silent. None of the other hit men; Hunters nor Handlers, and neither Don Shiro or Byakuya dared break the almost palpable air of threat and deadly calm that radiated from the blue haired Hunter. All the men in the vehicle knew the seemingly distracted man was far more ready and alert than he looked. His honed body was tense with readied energy but relaxed in a way that showed his ease and confidence. For Grimmjow, a hunt was a mere game of cat and mouse. Only this time, the stakes had been raised, and his mate was involved. Nothing would stand in his way of eliminating his target.

The vehicle rolled to a stop, nearly an hour later and Grimmjow was the first to leap out of the dark colored car. He landed silently in the soft snow, head tilted to the air slightly as he glanced around. Once he was satisfied and had set off in the direction of the target's mansion, the other men exited the vehicle and the hunt was on.

As Grimmjow neared the gate on the eastern side of the complex, he began counting. He waited nearly a full minute before taking a running start toward the high fence. He vaulted toward the top ledge as the first of the confused voices began echoing toward him softly. One such voice was cut shot as a bullet from a silenced pistol stole the man's life.

It didn't take long for guards to begin to flood in the direction sounds, but Grimmjow didn't need long. He scaled the fence and dropped quietly to the ground on the other side. Landing in a ready crouch, he glance around before darting toward the main building, stealthy as a shadow and just as silent.

The Don and his men were merely there as a distraction, a way of keeping Aizen's men busy. Having Shirosaki himself there would imply that that was were the main threat was coming from. Of course, if all went well, Shiro planned to meet up with Grimmjow as he searched for Ichigo while Byakuya and the hit men set up a sort of perimeter and kept the guards busy and away from the searching and hopefully escaping Hunter and Handler.

Grimmjow crept to the side entrance he had seen on the blueprints. As expected, a few men were guarding the door. The sounds from the other entrance held their attention however, and their distraction cost them their lives. Five strokes of Grimmjow's blades and six seconds later saw all four of the men bleeding in the snow of the entry way.

Grimmjow adjusted his grip on his Saberclaws and snagged one of the guards' keycards. Swiping the plastic card through the door locking mechanism, the Hunter pushed the door open slowly and quietly. He heard running footsteps from somewhere down the hall, but they weren't headed in his direction so he took off down the opposite way, the direction that would lead him to where he believed Ichigo was being held.

He rounded a corner and snarled as he came face to face with several armed guards. The men froze, all heads turning in his direction. Grimmjow let a deranged smile that resembled more of a threatening sneer cross his features. The bluenette threw himself at he guards, his blades flashing in the artificial, florescent lighting.

The Hunter landed upon the first of the hapless men. A few well placed, downward slashes painted the wooden floor red before he was up and swinging at the next man in his way. One man raised his gun to aim at Grimmjow. He didn't get the chance to fire, however. The bluenette dealt a solid punch to the man's jaw, the serrated edge of his dagger shredding the flesh of the man's face even as the strength of Grimmjow's attack broke his jaw.

Blood dripping from his hands and arms, Grimmjow finished off the man and looked up to see the last of the guards turning on his heal to flee. Like the predator he was, the Hunter gave chase and caught his prey with ease.

Blood sprayed across white walls as Grimmjow sank his blade into the soft flesh of the man's throat. The hooked blade sank deep and tore cartilage away with it. The man fell to the ground in a heap, hands around his own throat and a soft gurgling filling the silence.

Not wanting to waste more time, Grimmjow spun back around and took off in the direction he had been heading. It didn't take him long to find the area he was looking for and the Hunter slowed his pace, being cautious and silent. He pressed the call button on his collar as he stalked the hallways, but remained silent as he waited for it to connect. If Ichigo had his matching one on him, he would connect to the two way if he was able. If his Handler didn't have the device and someone else did, Grimmjow didn't want to give away his position. So he stayed silent while he waited.

A few seconds passed and his collar vibrated ever so slightly again, letting him know the two way hadn't been connected and that he wouldn't be able to hear anything from the other end. The Hunter placed his back to a wall and slowly peeked around the corner, dividing his attention between his collar and the world around him.

As he crept through the oddly silent and empty halls, Grimmjow debated ending the connection. If Ichigo wasn't able to answer then there was no point in keeping the one way line open and risk giving himself away. Something gnawed in his gut and the Hunter couldn't bring himself to disconnect. It felt too much like he was giving up hope, even though he was steadily making his way toward Ichigo.

A sound penetrated the silence, loud to the Hunter's sensitive hearing. Grimmjow froze in place as he tried to discern what direction the sound had come from, a sneer automatically finding it's way to his features. It took him a moment to realize the sound had come from his collar and blue eyes went wide as he listened to the suddenly not so quiet sounds of a struggle from the other end of the connected speaker.

"_G...Get off of me!"_ The voice of his Handler was unmistakable, as was the distress in his tone. The scream was followed by a chuckle and he heard his lover groan in pain.

"Ichigo?" Grimmjow couldn't stay quiet any longer. He had to know that Ichigo was ok, he had to let him know that he was on his way. He had to find him.

"_Grimmjow? Grimmjow!"_ Ichigo's voice was strained and held an edge of fear and desperation. The Hunter fully planed to make the bastard hurting his lover pay.

Grimmjow sprinted down the hall, his long strides eating the distance between he and the room he was convinced he would find Ichigo in. He met no resistance in the deserted hallways and slid to a stop along smooth wood as he listened to the sounds of struggling continue from the other side of the speaker. He growled and bared white teeth as he twisted the door knob to the small room he had seen on the blueprints and threw it open to slam against the wall behind it.

The room was empty. A wooden chair sat in the middle of the bare space, bolted to the wooden floor, a chain attached to one of the legs. A second chair had been drug into the room, it sat against the wall and out of reach of the occupant of the chain. The space vaguely smelled of recently cleaned urine and dirt and Grimmjow's heart thumped heavily in his chest.

He had been right. This was the room Ichigo was being kept in, but where was he now? More screams through the collar had the Hunter turning and sprinting out of the room. He didn't have time to think about it right now. He had to find Ichigo.

Through the speaker of his collar, Grimmjow heard a heavy thump and several objects being knocked to the floor, some of them shattering like glass. Blue brows drew together as he listened to the following silence. He could barely make out the sounds of harsh panting before a voice echoed through the speaker.

"_Grimmjow? The Hunter, yes?" _The voice made anger light his spine on fire. He growled quietly and continued to search the hallways.

"_...I assume this thing is still working...what a clever device. Well then, now that you're tuning in, you may as well know that I'm about to make your friend here mine."_

* * *

><p><strong>Well, what do you think? Aizen-sama is just a cruel bastard when he want's to be, isn't he?<br>**


	5. Chapter 5

**The exciting conclusion of _Dinner with the Family_ {insert dramatic music}**

**Pff~ Anyway. Enjoy!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Ichigo was thrown to floor by the force of Aizen's back hand, hitting the top of the large desk on the way down. He hit the ground hard, papers fluttering about him and a heavy, glass paper weight shattered near by.<p>

In the back of his mind, Ichigo warned himself to be careful of the broken glass but his thoughts were sluggish and the room seemed to swim. From somewhere in the office, probably on the other side of the wooden desk he had just tumbled over, the Handler heard Aizen speak.

He didn't care what the man had to say. Ichigo ignored the don, thinking that he was probably telling him to behave again or demanding information Ichigo wouldn't give him.

The orangette struggled on the floor, finally managing to pull his legs under him and sit up on his knees. He tried to rub at the back of his head, where it had hit the top of the desk, but his hands were still bound. The duct tape pulled and dug cruelly into his worn, raw flesh. The flash of sharp pain seemed to help clear his mind and Ichigo instantly spun around, nearly falling back to the ground in the process.

He crawled backward until he was pressed against the wall and watched Aizen round the large desk with wide eyes.

An enraged growling, not unlike that of an angered animal, filtered through the office. The sound was slightly less menacing coming through the small speaker of his collar, but it still carried the same threat. _"Don't you fuckin touch him." _Grimmjow growled from the other end of the line.

Grimmjow? Ichigo's fear filled eyes widened. Grimmjow was a smart man when it came to these sorts of things, damn near a tactical genius. He wouldn't have tried reaching him with the collar after all this time of remaining silent unless he was near. The Handler put the pieces together and quickly surmised that his lover had to be in the mansion somehow. Desperation and hope made him scream out as Aizen grabbed hold of his wrists.

More snarling filtered through the collar. The sound was followed by a sick slicing, ripping sound and Ichigo instantly recognized it as the sound of Grimmjow's blades tearing into a body.

The Handler continued to shout, hoping against all odds that Grimmjow would be near enough in the large, winding mansion to hear him through more than just the speaker of the collars. He fought Aizen as best he could, struggling and kicking out with all his dwindled strength. A calm voice cut through his mind; a voice that kept his hope alive as Aizen hovered over him.

"_Ichigo. Where are you, can you tell me?" _Grimmjow's words were calm and even, not belaying any of the panic he felt. They were an anchor for Ichigo to cling to and he shouted out an answer as he scrambled to his feet.

"T...The office! Aizen's office!" Ichigo didn't know how that would help Grimmjow, but he hoped the Hunter would find him soon. Grimmjow was good at what he did, he had always known that. If anyone could sneak into Aizen's mansion, fight and claw his way through the halls and find Ichigo's trail, it was Grimmjow.

"_Lead the way." _The man's deep voice rang through the speaker again, this time not addressing the Handler or the don. It screamed with threat and the promise of things worse than death should whoever he was speaking to go against him.

Aizen paused as he heard the Hunter speak, his small smile falling to a just as slight frown. Ichigo seized his moment of distraction and scrambled for the door. He wrapped his bound hands around the knob to find that Aizen had locked the door. He cursed and jerked on it anyway. Desperate and terrified, he fumbled with the small locking mechanism of the door with trembling hands.

The don's distraction didn't last long. He calmly walked up behind the frightened Handler and wrapped a strong arm around the man's neck, pulling his forearm firmly across Ichigo's throat. He locked his arm in place with his other and dragged the struggling man away from the door, thoughts in over drive of how to salvage this situation.

Ichigo gasped for air and pulled at the don's arms, trying to free himself. Aizen's body was pressed firmly against his back, his heat oppressive in the worst of ways and his still half hard member rubbed across the top of his ass through the man's slacks. Ichigo whimpered, trying to hold back his tears as he continued to struggle.

A heavy object thudded against the door from in the opposite side, causing both men to freeze and look expectantly at the portal as the door shuttered with the force. A grunt from the hallway was the only sound and mere moments later a dark, crimson pool seeped below the door, soaking into the wooden planks of the floor.

"Grimmjow..." The word was whispered as Ichigo still struggled to loosen the arm around his throat. He twisted against the tape binding his wrists and managed to drive his elbow back into the don's stomach. Aizen grunted and doubled slightly, his grip loosening. "Grimmjow!"

A growling was his answer as the Hunter pounded on the wooden door from the other side, his brute force shaking the very frame as the door groaned in protest. The pounding paused and Grimmjow spoke from the other side of the door, his deep voice dark and commanding. "Stay back, Ichi"

A split second later a thick, curved black blade splintered the wood around the door knob. The blade twisted before being pulled back through, only to re-pierce the wood immediately after. Again, the blade was pulled back, but this time, Grimmjow slammed his fist through the damaged area, uncaring as the wood splintered and cut into his knuckles.

"Stay back or I'll kill him" Aizen stated calmly as he watched the Hunter reach through the broken door and calmly unlock it.

Grimmjow pulled the door open and peered inside. His lip curled and his blue eyes widened as they instantly landed on the abused, battered Handler. What had they done to his Ichigo? A possessive anger welled inside Grimmjow as he quickly assessed the situation.

"No you wont." He told Aizen as he stepped through the door way, unmindful of the bloody mess he was walking through. His voice was quiet and too calm. "You'll be begging for death quicker than you ever thought possible."

Ichigo felt Aizen tense up behind him as the man shifted, obviously recognizing the promise for what it was. His heart pounded painfully in his chest at the sight of his lover, blood smeared and angry, the man he never thought he would see again. He watched the hidden emotions swirl behind the predatory chaos that flooded cool azure.

"It seems we are at a stalemate, then." Aizen said, his voice calm and unwavering as he stared down the blue haired beast in front of him, all the while his mind raced to find a way to keep the Hunter down. He had seen the man take half a chamber of bullets and still struggle enough to kill one of his best men. But then, Aizen had mostly just been toying with the Hunter at the time.

"Let him go and I'll make your death swift." Grimmjow growled out at the don. It took every ounce of control he had to not throw himself at the baster don but he didn't want to hurt Ichigo any further and Aizen still had a hold of him.

Ichigo felt as Aizen's weight shifted again, leaning to one side almost imperceptibly. He trembled with fear, exhaustion and adrenaline but he knew the don was up to something. Habit formed over the years of working with his Hunter made the Handler's eyes dart in the direction Aizen was leaning toward, searching out clues as to what the man was planning so that he could better assist his partner. After a moment of searching, Ichigo found what the don had seen.

A gun lay amidst the broken glass and papers Ichigo had knocked from the desk when he had been thrown across it. His eyes widened and he looked back up at Grimmjow. Still tugging at the arm pulling against his trachea and threatening to choke him, he waited for the Hunter to glance down at him. Ichigo raised two fingers, the digits held close to each other in a mock shape of the threat, then looked back to the gun.

"It is you that should be hoping for a swift death, creature." Aizen said, his tone superior and haughty. He did well at hiding his concern and seeming confident.

The silent information passed to him by his Handler didn't slip Grimmjow's understanding and his crystalline blue eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back to Aizen. His head tilted slightly and he bared his teeth, flipping the blades in his hands in a circular motion once, just for the threat factor. He watched the don's eyes flick down to the blades before looking back up to his face.

"Nah. You couldn't kill me before." Grimmjow said quietly as he took a stalking, circling step toward Aizen. The direction he circled toward brought him closer to the gun Ichigo had indicated and forced Aizen to step away from it in order to maintain the distance between them.

"You two really make a magnificent team. It's a shame I can't keep you both. You know, I could pay you more?" Aizen said. He suddenly released Ichigo, shoving him hard toward the Hunter. He pulled a different gun from a holster on the back of his unbuckled belt and trained it on the stumbling Handler. He knew threatening the bluenette directly wouldn't get him anywhere, but threatening his partner seemed to work well.

In a protective motion, Grimmjow wrapped his arms around the smaller man as Ichigo stumbled into his solid body and began to fall. He turned his back to Aizen, placing himself between the threat and his lover as the gun went off. Hot lead dug a furrow across the muscle of his shoulder and he reacted with quick, instinctual movements.

The bluenette pushed Ichigo to the ground and toward the desk, nearly throwing him behind the large, wooden object as he spun around. Before he had even completed his turn, he planted his back foot and dove at his target.

Aizen tried to dodge to the side, headed for the door. An almost silent curse escaped him as he was tripped up by the Hunter. He spun back to face the man as a thickly corded arm wrapped around his waist from behind.

The gun went off again, harmlessly discharging toward the ceiling as Aizen was tackled to the ground. The don tried to redirect the weapon at the Hunter. Grimmjow dropped one of his blades and grasped Aizen's wrist. He twisted and slammed the man's gun hand to the wooden floor so that the weapon pointed at the wall.

Aizen dropped the gun and used his free hand punch the large Hunter in the face. The bluenette's head snapped around, his jaw snapping shut loudly with the force of the strike. A growl left the man's throat and he slowly looked back to Aizen, a slightly unhinged grin creeping across his face.

Blood trickled from Grimmjow's split lip, dripping down his chin in thick, crimson drops. He bared his teeth in animalistic glee at finally getting his hands on the man that had taken his lover away. Grimmjow raised his head away from the pinned don, smile firmly in place. He fisted a hand in the front of the man's button up shirt.

"You should have let him go when I told you too." Grimmjow said, his voice dark and filled with a malevolent, primal threat. He snapped his head forward, snarling a deranged laugh as he heard the man's nose crunch before Aizen's head slammed into the hard floor below them.

Blood streamed down the lower half of Aizen's face, his nose crooked and obviously broken. Grimmjow climbed off the man, snatching up his discarded second blade, and kicked the gun away. He dropped to a ready, half crouch and motioned the still laying Aizen toward him.

The Hunter wanted a fight, he wanted blood and screaming and guts. He wanted Aizen to beg for death as he watched life slowly drain from those calm, cynical brown eyes. He wanted to bring the don so near death that he had to revive him so that he could kill him all over again.

The don clutched at his bleeding face as he staggered up right, eyeing the dangerous man before him. Aizen's mind raced as he searched for a way to defeat the crazed, blood thirsty beast of a man. The two guns in the room were both too far away for him to hope to reach. His pager rested in his pocket. It wouldn't take long for backup to arrive if he hit the speed dial but something told him that if he moved to retrieve it he would set the Hunter off. And he had high doubts he could match the man's physical strength or speed.

In front of the don, Grimmjow sneered as his nearly inhuman hearing picked up running footsteps from down the hall way. He watched the brown haired man flinch slightly as his calculating eyes watched Grimmjow's every move. A moment later, Aizen's slight smile returned as he too heard the footsteps. Grimmjow pivoted as the footsteps drew nearer, turning his body so that he could watch the door and Aizen.

"Aizen-sama! There's been a breach..." The speaker's words died as he rounded the corner and the big, blue haired man came into view.

"Ah, wonderful timing" Aizen said, being careful to not make too many quick movements that would set the dangerous hit man off. Let his guard die in his place, the man would ultimately do something stupid anyway. Like he was now.

The guard pulled a gun from it's holster inside his coat as he stared at the famed, blue haired killer. There was no mistaking who this man was. The Hunter's muscled body tensed as he drew his weapon and trained it on the man. A smirk curled his lips and the bluenette began stalking forward, shifting the black blades in his hands with ease.

"No, no! Him!" Aizen told the guard, his voice the loudest and closest thing to a shout the man had ever heard. The don pointed to where Ichigo was still crouching on the ground, where his Hunter had shoved him to keep him safe from Aizen. "The orange one, aim at him!"

The guard, hands shaking slightly as the deranged killer crouched slightly and readied to attack, eyeing him with too blue eyes that swirled with a tainted hunger, did as he was told by his boss and swung the weapon to train on the beaten captive.

The change in the Hunter was instant. His grin turned to a sneer and a menacing snarl left his throat. Grimmjow edged toward Ichigo, once again determined to place himself between his lover and the threat. Off to his right, he heard Aizen move about and watched as the guard's eyes shifted to look at his don.

Grimmjow chose the opportunity to spring at the guard. He leapt forward, throwing his large body weight into the man. The two tumbled into the hallway, the guard squeezing the trigger as he fell.

A growl was torn from Grimmjow's throat but he ignored the burning lead that cut through the flesh of his upper arm and slashed out with his curved blades. Cruel metal sank deep into the man's chest and a strangled, pained yell shattered the silence of the corridor.

Grimmjow ripped the blades from the man's body and brought one down in a sweeping arc, slashing the man's throat wide and spraying blood in a fountain to paint the halls. Spinning around, the Hunter shot to his feet again and skidded to a halt in the office, his boots slipping slightly in the bloody mess in the door way.

Aizen looked up from inspecting some of the dirt on his once perfectly pressed shirt. He casually held a gun in one hand, trained at the Hunter's abdomen. "Oh, finished already?" He asked, a feigned amusement shining in his tone.

Grimmjow growled, hardly surprised that the don would take the opportunity to find one of the guns that were floating around the room somewhere. His hatred for the man was raising by the second and it was never good to be on the blue haired Hunter's bad side.

"Ichigo, darling." Aizen called softly, mockingly. A sickly sweet smile curved his thin lips, subtle yet noticeable all the same. "If you don't come out I'm going to kill your partner." For emphasis, the don cocked the gun and discharged the spent shell he had fired minutes ago. The shell bounced on the floor with a hollow sound and rolled toward the edge of the desk.

Grimmjow's growl turned into an enraged snarl as he felt his control slipping. "Ichi. Don't care what happens, you stay right where you are unless I say otherwise." He said in a calm, commanding voice, not taking his deadly, glacial gaze from Aizen. In his peripheral he saw the Handler nod slightly, one eye wide, the other nearly swollen shut and ringed in dark purple.

Ichigo wasn't suppose to look like that. It wasn't so much the physical abuse that his Handler had taken that bothered him; the man had gotten his fair share of ass beatings just like the rest of them, that was part of the job. What really set the bluenette off was seeing him look so fearful. It stirred something unsettling in the pit of Grimmjow's stomach. The sight angered the Hunter further and he let his hatred for the man who had dared lay a hand on his lover take over.

Grimmjow took a stalking step toward the don, uncaring of the gun trained at him. He would gladly take a few bullets if it meant sinking his teeth into the bastard. The thought of Aizen's blood running down the back of his throat appealed to the Hunter a little more than it probably should have and he let a grin eat the lower half of his handsome features.

The Hunter decided he might as well get the show on the road and took a running step toward the don. His long stride brought him nearly directly in front of Aizen in the smallish room and brown eyes widened briefly before going back to their normal calm. The gun trained at Grimmjow went off and the Hunter accepted the hit, grunting as the bullet bit deep into his flesh but he was able to keep his forward momentum, his rage pushing the pain he should have felt to the back of his mind for him to deal with later.

His larger body size over powered the don and the two men crashed into the wall, denting it and cracking the perfect white paint. Grimmjow pulled his arm back and drove his forearm hard across the don's chest.

Aizen gasped for air at the stunning hit. He wasn't the hand-to-hand combat type and knew he was in trouble. The enraged Hunter would tear him apart if he didn't find a way to deal a serious wound to the man.

As he tried to bring the gun to aim at the Hunter again, a powerful hand wrapped his wrist. The strong grip tightened until his fingers started to go numb, all the while cold blue fire burned into his cynical gaze. Aizen felt the gun begin to slip from his numbed grip as the big hand continued to squeeze.

With his free hand, Aizen drilled the bluenette as hard as he could across his jaw. The Hunter's already bloody lip began to seep again but it wasn't enough to deter the bluenette. Aizen followed up his attack with a well placed knee, figuring even if the Hunter hardly seemed human, he was still a man and right now, the don couldn't afford to be proper or picky.

Blue brows furrowed and Grimmjow's lip curled. "Fucker" He snarled, his grip on Aizen's wrist loosening enough to allow the man to jerk his arm free.

Aizen gave him a small, one sided shrug and lashed out. He swung, attempting to hit Grimmjow with the butt of his gun while he reached for the pager still in his pocket. The Hunter brought his arm up to block. The sound of his metal blade clanking off the gun rang through the air. Using his none blocking arm, he punched out and heard as much as felt as the serrated edge that ran across his knuckles tore through the fabric of the don's shirt.

The article of clothing was enough to lessen the biting, cutting effect the shot had, but Aizen was still forced to take the solid strength of the bluenette's hit.

As the two struggled and fought, Ichigo sat behind the desk his lover had told him to stay behind and listened. He couldn't believe Aizen didn't have men crawling all over the place by now and he wished Grimmjow would hurry up and quit playing around. It was almost as if the Hunter was purposely not using the sharp edge of his deadly blades just yet. He wouldn't be happy with a quick, clean kill like he usually was. The Hunter wanted to play with his prey, to make Aizen realize what he had done.

A deep, malevolent chuckle emanated over the sound of the two men's struggle. Ichigo couldn't help the slight tilt of his lips at the sound. The Handler pulled at the tape binding his wrists and winced as it dug painfully into his bloodied and raw flesh. He sat up on his knees and began opening drawers to Aizen's desk. Surely the man had a knife or even a letter opener somewhere that he could use to cut the tape.

Another gun shot split the air of the office and echoed down the hallway. Ichigo froze, listening until he heard Grimmjow's snarl. Heaving a sigh of relief, he glanced out the door toward the hallway before going back to searching for something to cut the duct tape with. If only Grimmjow had thought to give him one of the many knives the man was surely carrying.

He heard the clanking of metal followed by a grunt and the crashing off bodies and Ichigo knew Grimmjow had dropped his blades in favor of forcing Aizen to grapple with him. It was probably a wise decision considering the gun Aizen still had.

Gritting his teeth and groaning in frustration, Ichigo pulled the last of the desk drawers open. Nothing. How could the head of a powerful crime family not have a blade of some sort in his desk? It made no sense. It was obvious that Aizen always carried at least one gun on him, most mafia members did, but why wouldn't he have a knife in his desk? They came in handy for all sorts of things. Then it dawned on him. Aizen had used a knife when he cut Ichigo free and rebound his hands in front of him.

Ichigo shot to his feet, ignoring the protest of all his injuries and tired, weakened muscles, ignoring the warning Grimmjow had given him, and shouted to his lover.

"Grimmjow! Knife! He has a knife!"

The Hunter's snarling growl was cut short just as he heard the shouted warning. Grimmjow took a step back, away from Aizen and raised his hand to the blade sticking out of his chest, just below his collarbone. He wrapped his fingers around the handle but the lancing, sharp pain rocketing down his arm and across his chest kept him from pulling the knife out as the edge dug into his clavicle.

His swirling blue eyes snapped back to Aizen's form. The don was scrambling for one of the guns and Grimmjow reacted, ignoring the knife. Reaching down, he scooped up one of his hooked Saberclaws as he neared the man.

Aizen raised the gun, his brown eyes darting over to Ichigo as he swung the weapon to bare on the Handler; seemingly this blue haired monster's only weakness.

Grimmjow snarled and launched himself at the don. He drove Aizen to the ground, a gunshot shattering the silence. Enraged howling left the Hunter's throat and Grimmjow brought his blade down with all his strength.

Blood welled to the surface, staining the man's white shirt around the hooked dagger. Grimmjow pressed on the curved metal, sinking it deeper into the don's stomach. He leaned over Aizen's prone body and snarled in his face, his blue eyes ablaze with more rage and hatred than should be possible.

Swirling, irate blue met stunned brown and the Hunter savagely yanked the blade out of the don, pulling bits of flesh and large intestine with it. He couldn't form words passed his anger and unbearable pain. It wasn't a physical pain, but somewhere deep in his chest had sank and drowned when he had seen Ichigo stagger backward in his peripheral vision.

His blood dripped the length of the handle that jutted from his chest to mix with the don's below him and Grimmjow wanted more; more blood, more pain, more screaming. He ripped his prey's shirt apart before he fisted his hand in short brown locks and yanked Aizen's head back as the man chocked on his own blood and clawed at the Hunter's corded forearms.

Grimmjow reversed his grip on the curved blade and dug it back into the soft flesh of Aizen's abdomen. He carefully and slowly peeled flesh away from muscle as Aizen's screams filled the office. No doubt the man's agony would draw his minions to them like a moth to a flame, but Grimmjow didn't care. He didn't care about anything except for making this man suffer.

Something wet and clear dripped to mix with the blood staining his hands but he didn't pay attention to it. He didn't want to think about it. He was an animal, the perfect killer, a Hunter.

He growled and stared into shocked, muddy brown eyes as he began cutting through muscle, his blade catching on the bone beneath here and there. Aizen's screaming died as the don struggled to breath in quick gasps around the blood pooling in the back of his throat. He deserved more than this and Grimmjow was determined to make the don feel everything as he slowly gutted him for touching his lover.

The Hunter parted the fleshless muscle below his fingers and cut away sinew and cartilage and tendon to get to the organs below. Blood pooled on the floor below them, seeping between the wooden floor boards and growing out to touch against the base of the white walls. Grimmjow didn't notice as the don fell still, his gurgling, wheezing breaths going silent. The man didn't deserve to die quickly.

Something sloshed slightly in the blood around him but he only vaguely registered it. A warm weight settled on his shoulder and the Hunter's lips pulled back to reveal over sharp teeth in a threatening, animalistic display.

Ichigo had never seen anything so beautiful as the blood spattered Hunter. He had thought he would never get to see Grimmjow again and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around the man. He edged closer to the bluenette, blood slowly trickling down his arm from the bullet that had grazed him. As he settled one of his still bound hands on the man's shoulder, a sob choked up the Handler's throat, nearly silent.

It was enough for the Hunter to hear, though. Vivid, gorgeous and dangerous blue eyes snapped over to lock with his own, cutting through him and piercing Ichigo's very heart.

"G...Grimm..." Ichigo's voice was rough and scratchy, barely above a whisper. He watched some of the blood lust and madness clear away, a much softer, almost pained look settling in it's place.

The blade dropped from Grimmjow's hand to clatter on the wooden floor as he sat frozen, looking at Ichigo, his panting breaths sounding harsh in the suddenly quiet room. So very slowly, the Hunter tilted his head slightly and turned to face the orangette.

Ichigo reached up, winching as the tape cut into his wrists and carefully brushed away the stray tears that ran down his lover's handsome face. The Handler didn't think he had ever seen his Hunter cry before. He never wanted to see it again. A slight smile pulled at the corners of his lips when Grimmjow's eyes widened slightly and he looked down at Ichigo's wet fingers.

The bluenette's hands slowly reached up to grasp Ichigo's own and Grimmjow gently traced his fingers across the tape binding his lover's wrists. Blue brows creased and the Hunter reached down and pulled the combat knife from his boot. He carefully cut the red flecked duct tape away before climbing to his feet, pulling the orangette with him.

As Ichigo stood up, hands held tightly within the Hunter's larger ones, he was brought nearly eye level with the handle of a knife still piercing the chest of his lover. "Jesus, Grimm..." Ichigo murmured as he looked at the wounds the man had taken for his sake. At the moment, however, the knife worried him the most. The simple fact that the Hunter hadn't yanked it out on his own meant something.

He carefully reached up, ignoring the slight burn caused by bending his wrists, and gently touched the handle. The Hunter let out a quiet grunt and Ichigo instantly retracted his fingers, looking up into the man's eyes. "Alright" He said with a slight nod.

Multiple sets of running footsteps sounded from somewhere down the hall and Grimmjow bared his teeth, a growl filling the quiet room. The Hunter snagged his Saberclaws, tucking one into the sheath across his lower back and grabbing Ichigo's hand. He darted to the door, pulling the Handler with him but making sure Ichigo stayed behind him and out of harm's way. He maneuvered Ichigo so that he was standing beside the door frame and pressed against the wall. Hard, blue eyes told the Handler to stay exactly where Grimmjow put him and the Hunter reached over and flipped the light switch, plunging the room in deep shadows.

The light from the hall way illuminated part of the room, but the deep shadows still made it hard to distinguish details about the space. Grimmjow positioned himself on the other side of the door way, so that he was facing the direction the footsteps were coming from. He reached behind his back and quietly pulled the second blade free of it's sheath as he seemed to disappear into the shadows. The Hunter's previously heavy breaths evened out and went silent and if Ichigo hadn't watched the man move into position he wouldn't have even noticed him.

As the footsteps approached, Grimmjow bared his teeth and leapt from his concealed location. He was faced with two guns leveled at his face. The weapons almost sent the Hunter, still in an over protective and predatory mode into a frenzy and he almost attacked.

Ichigo heard the sound of shoes skidding on smooth wood and quiet curses but the sound of an attack never came. Instead, he heard a quiet sigh and Don Shiro's watery voice.

"Shit, Grimmjow, ya scared the piss outta us." The Don said quietly as he lowered his gun. "Nothin' like have a crazy, knife wielding, blue haired guy jump outta the dark at'cha ta get yer heart goin'."

Ichigo stepped away from the wall, and rounded the door frame to exit the room. His legs shook unsteadily under him and the longer he was in Grimmjow's company, the more tired and light headed he got. He felt safe, even in the enemies mansion, just being near his lover again. But he couldn't give in to the rest he desperately needed just yet.

His brown eyes locked onto a pair of slowly widening, liquid golden ones. The Don's eyes quickly flicked over his form before a smirk spread across his pale lips.

"Ya guys match pretty well, ya both look like shit." Shiro paused and let the smirk fall from his features as he looked back at his favored Handler. "It's good ta have ya back, Ichi." As he took in the Handler's condition, he was glad Grimmjow had insisted they leave sooner rather than wait until he was healthier; Ichigo may not have been able to survive here for another week. It was obvious they had put him through hell.

The man that was accompanying Shiro cleared his throat in the most dignified of ways, drawing everyones attention. "I would like to suggest that we get out of here before Aizen gets around to searching his inner mansion."

Grimmjow grunted and leaned over to flip the light in Aizen's office back on before turning to Ichigo. The Hunter grabbed his Handler's hand and headed toward the entrance he had previously used.

A quiet cackle reached them, Shiro obviously pleased with what he saw. When the two dons rejoined the hit men, Shiro was wearing his customary grin and Byakuya looked a bit pale, though just as dignified and calm as ever.

Evacuating the mansion turned out to be easier than they had planned. With Aizen not in position to order his henchmen around, the mansion's occupants were in chaos. The other teams Shiro had brought with them scoured the hallways and kept most of the heat away from the escaping Don and his three men. And any trouble they did run into was easily dealt with, as Grimmjow insisted on leading the way through the corridors. His silent, stalking steps had allowed him to sneak up and take several of Aizen's lackeys by surprise.

Grimmjow climbed into the Don's personal vehicle and turned to help his lover in as well. Shiro and the lower ranking don climbed in after them and Shiro informed the Hunter and Handler that he had another car hidden closer to the main entrance for the other teams to evacuate to. He twisted in his seat and tapped on the tinted partition. The car was instantly brought to life and took off down the street.

The night had seemed so long and yet they had only been in enemy territory a few hours. Shiro smirked as he watched his Hunter wrap strong arms around the abused Handler and bury his face in messy, orange locks as the vehicle rolled down the street.

••••••

The man shifted nervously, looking from one to the other as he tried to reason with the hit men. One; a lean built man with kind but stubborn features, the other; a beast of a man at six foot something with a muscular build that strained at his tight shirt. Both men in front of him had an air that screamed danger and he knew he had taken the wrong job. The money had been too good to pass up, the security seemingly too lax to not get away with it.

Crossing his arms over his expensive, tailored suit clad chest, one of the hit men cocked his slim hip and shook his head in a mock display of sorrow, a slight frown turning pink lips down at the corners. His orange locks, tied into a low tail at the base of his neck, swayed slightly with the motion and hard, brown eyes remained locked on the man before them.

"He's a fuckin' liar." A deep voice snarled through the quiet space. "I hate scum." The Hunter sneered at the man, just another weak prey item trying to line his pockets with the Don's money. What was worse; the man not only thought he could get away with dealing in the Don's territory, but now he was trying to deny it.

Don Shiro didn't take well to gangs trying to weed their way into his city. And it was his city now. This one and the next; both belonged to Shirosaki, though Shiro sent Byakuya to run the smaller of the two while he reigned over Karakura. His family was ever on the rise and after the fall of Aizen's family, there was no one left in his way to really pose a threat. Only a few months had gone by and already Shirosaki was the name everyone feared and respected.

"I know you don't, Grimm." The Handler addressed his partner.

"Grimm? Ain't that kinda corny for a killer?" Two sets of cold, swirling eyes; one set of brown, the other a brilliant blue, snapped to the man that had spoken.

This boy just didn't know when to stop. Ichigo sighed and gave a slight shrug before turning an almost apologetic look to the thug standing a few feet away from him. "He's all yours" He said to his partner.

The Handler turned and walked from the small abandoned house he had cornered the dealer in, leaving the poor man's fate up to his ever blood thirsty Hunter.

"No...no, I...I didn't do it...Please!" The man's begging floated to him as he approached his vehicle but it was his Hunter's reply that brought a slight smile to Ichigo's face. The driver opened his door and bowed as he held it for the Don's top Handler.

"Pathetic." Grimmjow sneered as he stalked toward the lowlife he had just been given permission to kill. A wicked grin split his handsome face, flashing white teeth and pulling more pathetic begging from the target slowly backing away from him.

Grimmjow pulled the butterfly knife from the back pocket of his dark jeans and pounced. The man screamed and tried to run, all the while begging the Hunter to spare his life. The bluenette grabbed hold of the back of the retreating target's hooded sweatshirt. Cold steel plunged through the material and sank deep into warm flesh, just to the left of the spine.

Blood welled to bloom across the sweatshirt's surface as Grimmjow yanked the man from his feet. He kicked the crying target over so that he lay on his back before descending upon him. The Hunter chuckled at the look of pure, unrelenting terror on his prey's face and brought his blade in a clean sweep across the man's throat.

As the target grasped at his opened trachea and fought to breath through the warm liquid filling his lungs, Grimmjow rolled the man back over. He sliced the hooded sweatshirt open and peeled it away, exposing the man's tattooed back.

"Decent artist" Grimmjow commented in an almost friendly way as he carved the message he was supposed to be delivering into the man's back. No one fucked with Don Shirosaki.

The Hunter stood from his handiwork and left the building, slipping back into his coat as he did so. He was met by his driver not far down the road and the door was held open for him.

As he slid into his seat, he was handed a white handkerchief and the Hunter began wiping some of the blood from his hands as he leaned back on the plush leather seats of the expensive car.

"That didn't take long" Ichigo said, watching his partner clean some of the blood away. He was always so messy in his work, like a cat playing with a mouse.

The car pulled away from the curb, headed north and toward the mansion. They weren't far and the drive would only take a few minutes.

"Tch. When's the Don going to start sending us on more challenging missions again?" Grimmjow asked, a smirk on his full lips at the look he could feel his lover casting over him. "This shit's getting boring."

"Hmm, guess we shall find out. Shiro wants to speak with us when we get back." Ichigo's answer was a distracted one, his smooth voice taking on a slightly husky edge. He crossed one leg over the other and quickly averted his eyes from the tempting man seated before him.

The mansion's gates rolled by as he stared out the window and tried to ignore the thick, cloying scent of the blood staining his lover's hands and shirt. He gratefully stepped from the confined space as the car was parked and the door was opened for the Hunter/Handler team.

The two men walked up the large, low stair case and the door men opened the doors quickly. As they strode through the main entrance and into the foyer, the Don's secretary hurried over, pushing his glasses up his thin nose.

"You are to await the Don in his office. He is indisposed at the moment, but shall be back in a few minutes." Uryu told his boss' team. He glanced at the Hunter's soiled clothing before turning on his heal and quickly taking his leave.

"Wander what Shiro's upto that he'd keep his best team waiting." Grimmjow commented as they walked down the hall toward the Don's office.

"You still think we're at the top?" Ichigo asked quietly. They had been out of commission since the incident with Aizen. Even as Grimmjow had healed and was able to begin his training again, he was unable to go into the field without a Handler and Shiro didn't dare try sending him with anyone other than Ichigo. Not that any sane Handler would take the offering, no matter how infamous and note worthy the bluenette was.

"Of course. You can't dethrone the King that easily." Grimmjow said, a smile full of perfect teeth consuming his face. He opened the unlocked door to Shiro's office and let his lover in first.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and chuckled as he took a seat in one of the chairs that sat in front of the large, stainless steel desk. He watched Grimmjow shrug out of his trench coat and start to take a seat next to him. "Don't get blood on the Don's furniture."

Grimmjow paused for a moment, trying to decide if his Handler was being serious. He hadn't really even gotten that messy, just his hands mostly and he had wiped most of that off. He looked down at himself, noticing the arterial spray across the front of his shirt.

He smirked and grasped the bottom edges of the offending item. "Ya know. If you wanted me to start taking my clothes off, all you had to do was ask." He said as he pulled the shirt over his head.

The Handler started to retort but as more golden, smooth skin was revealed, the words died in his throat. It was a complete backfire. He had only been giving the man shit, but now he had to stare at his lover's gorgeous body while they waited for Shiro.

A few still healing marks stood out against the rest of Grimmjow's flawless torso, making Ichigo's heart leap into his throat. The things the Hunter had done and fought through to come after him amazed the Handler and made him feel guilty all at once.

Ichigo stood from his chair and let his fingertips dance around the still bruised and puckered edge of the stab wound just below Grimmjow's collarbone. The knife had been deep and had ground against the bone, slicing nerves and putting the Hunter through immense pain if the man's controlled silence that night had been anything to go by. And Ichigo knew him too well to think it anything else. That wound was still the angriest looking of them all.

Grimmjow stood still and let the Handler explore, humming at the soft touches of warm, gentle fingers. When molten, chocolaty eyes looked up at him, a deep apology shining in their depths, the bluenette couldn't help himself.

He wrapped his arms around the Handler and pulled him into a gentle yet passionate kiss. Ichigo had nothing to apologize for and he never would. Grimmjow would go through it all over again if he had too.

The orangette melted against him, pushing Grimmjow backwards as tongues danced about. The Hunter, quickly deciding he didn't much care where they were, grabbed his lover's hands, locking their fingers together, and pulled them behind Ichigo's back as he wrapped his arms back around the man.

Ichigo tilted his head as Grimmjow's lips trailed down his chin and feathered across his jaw. Teeth sank into the side of his neck and the Handler felt his tailored slacks tighten. He finally wrestled his hands free and splayed them across Grimmjow's muscled chest, dragging them down his pectorals and feeling washboard abs before he pushed the Hunter backward again.

As they parted, Ichigo saw that he had managed to get blood from Grimmjow's hands onto his own and smear it across the man's chest. The sight only made his length harden quicker as the bluenette bumped into the Don's desk.

Grimmjow reached out and grabbed Ichigo by his suit jacket and quickly reversed their positions so that the smaller man was pressed back against the desk. He peeled the jacket away from his lover's body and didn't bother unbuttoning the white shirt below as he began pulling at that too.

Ichigo fumbled with the buttons as his Hunter tugged at the clothing, managing half of them before the last few were torn from the shirt and the article was discarded. Large hands traveled his abdomen, teasing at his nipples and ghosting over bruised muscle while the man pressed his face into Ichigo's neck, growling his need and want. A slick tongue reached through parted lips and ran over the shell of the Handler's ear, forcing a shiver down Ichigo's spine as he arched into the teasing hands of his lover.

"Grimm...we...we're still in the Don's office..." Ichigo panted but he couldn't bring himself to actually put a stop to what was happening. This was so much different from what Aizen had been trying. This was ok, this was right and he wanted more of it.

"Don't care. Pants." Grimmjow purred into the orange haired man's ear, his fingers finding the edge of Ichigo's waist band to be in the way.

As the bluenette palmed his already hard cock through his pants, Ichigo found himself complying with the request and quickly unbuttoned his pants.

Grimmjow reached around behind himself and dug into his back pocket, right next to his butterfly knife. When he brought his hand back around, Ichigo rose an orange brow at the small tube in his hand.

"Ask later" Grimmjow said as he squeezed some of the lube out and made quick work of plunging his pointer finger into Ichigo's inviting entrance. The man arched into him, a gasp falling from his lips. His molten eyes darkened and a soft pink tinted the bridge of his nose. Gorgeous. Grimmjow licked his lips and spun the orangette around to face the desk.

He pulled the pants the rest of the way down, letting them pool around the Handler's feet and added a second finger. He scissored his fingers and stretched the man further.

Ichigo bit down on his lip, trying desperately to stifle the sounds trying to tumble from his lips. Quiet moans escaped as he began pushing back against the fingers impale him. He heard Grimmjow's aroused growl and shivered at the deep baritone.

"Oh god...Grimmjow...st...stop teasing." The Handler demanded in a low voice.

The Hunter chuckled and pulled his fingers from Ichigo's entrance. He dropped his own pants and pulled his rigid length free of blue, silk boxers. Using the last of the lubricant from the small tube, he slicked up his cock before lining up.

The Hunter paused, tilting his head slightly before crossing the space and locking the door. At least it would keep Shiro's annoying secretary from interrupting. Grimmjow returned to his lover, gently pushing Ichigo to lean forward a little further before slowly pressing forward.

Ichigo cried out as his lover's heavy member slowly slid into him, only stopping once fully inside. He grit his teeth and held his breath as he tried to relax and adjust. A warm hand rubbed circles across his lower back soothingly before hot lips and a slick tongue started kissing and teasing at the back of his neck. Ichigo let his held breath out, a moan issuing from him as he slowly pulled away from Grimmjow.

The Hunter's own moan matched the smaller man's as tight heat slowly pulled at his length. Grimmjow wrapped an arm around Ichigo's middle, letting his hand caress a toned chest and once again tease the man as he slowly thrust forward again.

He was rewarded with another delicious moan from the Handler. The sound spurred him on and Grimmjow quickly found a deep, brutal pace. He growled and moaned his own pleasure, the sounds mixing with Ichigo's in the office.

"Wanna...hear ya, Ichi..." Grimmjow ground out as he continued thrusting into his lover. "Scream for me"

The purred words had Ichigo's eyes rolling back as he thrust back against the Hunter, giving as much as he got. So lost in the mind blowing pleasure, he couldn't care less that they weren't in their own suite and he cried out as Grimmjow's cock struck his prostate.

"That's it..." Grimmjow growled quietly. He sank his teeth into lightly tanned skin and angled his hips to hit the same sensitive spot again.

Ichigo cried out again and fell forward onto the desk as the Hunter thrust even harder. His vision pulsed white with pleasure and he moaned and gave voice to that pleasure, letting Grimmjow know he was doing well.

His voice carried through the thick door of the office, but just barely and pale brows drew together as Shiro paused at his office door, hand hovering over the door knob. He was a little later than he had meant to be, but he had been attending to matters that demanded his attention.

A growl emanated softly through the door and Shiro shrugged, twisting the knob. It wasn't that unusual of a sound coming from the blue haired hit man. The Don let a smirk slant his pale lips as he guessed Grimmjow was getting fed up with the amateur missions he had been sending the team on.

The door knob didn't budge and Shiro's smirk faltered ever so slightly as he began digging in the inside pocket of his white jacket for his keys. He found what he was looking for and pushed the door open. Then he froze, liquid gold eyes wide as he was unable to tear them away from the sight before him.

Ichigo clawed at the smooth surface his upper body was resting on. Strong hands gripped his slim hips, surely adding to the bruises he was still recovering from. As he heard the door latch click, he pried lust heavy eyes open to see the Don staring slack jawed at he and his lover.

"ffff...fuck..." The Handler said quietly. "Oh, haaah...hey...Shi...Shirooo!" His panted greeting morphed into a loud cry as Grimmjow grinned behind him and wrapped his hand around Ichigo's till then neglected cock.

"Ya shouldn't...be saying other men's...names...while I'm fucking you, Ichi" Grimmjow stated, ignoring that the Don was still trying to wrap his mind around what was happening on his desk.

"Grimmnnn..." Ichigo cried out, his vision pulsing and his release rocketing toward him at the added sensations and stimulation. "I'm...ganna come, Grimmjow..."

Shiro finally snapped out of his dazed state and quickly spun around. "Fuck! Sorry, I guess!" He quickly yelled as he closed the door to his office and walked away as quickly as he could, eyes still wide and the image of his favored team fucking forever burned into his mind. Not that it had been a bad image.

From the direction of his office, he could just make out as Ichigo cried out, signifying the Handler's release and could just imagine Grimmjow's deep voice growling out his own orgasm.

"Well...guess they're healthy 'nuff fer regular missions again" Shirosaki mumbled to himself.

* * *

><p><strong><strong> I've gotta tell you guys, I had a lot of fun writing this one! Expect more bloody, violent fics in the future 8D <strong>  
>Now, back to <em>Monsters and Men<em>~  
><strong>

**Well? What did you think? Good story? Ending?**


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